
Class. 
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DOBELL COLLECTION 



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MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR 



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THE COMEDY OF REAL LIFE. 



IN FTYE ACTS. 



FOB FHIVATE CIRCULATION. 



LONDON: 

REYKELL AND WEIGHT, 16 LITTLE PULTENEY STREET. 

1853. 

~ — ^ 









MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR 



OE, 






THE COMEDY OF REAL LIFE. 



IN FIVE ACTS. 



FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION. 



ftte/U nMY^^t' ^^o>vfc i..c_. 



LONDON: 
REYNELL AND WEIGHT, 16 LITTLE PULTENEY STREET. 

1853. 

fat pMtsbei. 



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205449 
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DEDICATION 



TO 

SIE EDWAED BULWEE LYTTON, BAET. 



In addressing this Comedy to the most accomplished writer 
and successful dramatist of our day, I must be permitted to 
plead the same excuse for venturing to do so, which (as I have 
stated elsewhere) has alone impelled me to its partial circula- 
tion, namely — ^the favourable opinions pronounced upon it by 
accredited and unbiassed judges of such matters. This, how- 
ever, I should not have deemed a sufficient ground, of itself, 
for a step which partakes in some measure of a personal cha- 
racter, and therefore seems to ask a personal motive ; and such 
a motive I find in the ever-increasing gratitude and admiration 
that I feel for writings which, to my thinking, have done, and 
are doing, more to elevate and refine the general Intellect of 
the time, and thus to keep within just and safe limits the 
boasted *' March" of that Intellect, than the literary produc- 
tions of any other living writer. 

P. G. Patmore. 

London, Novembeb, 1853. 



PREFACE, 



Although the following comedy was of course constructed 
with an express view to the Stage, the existing appliances 
and means appertaining to any one of the theatres at 
present forming that Stage are so imperfectly adapted to 
its successful performance, that it must necessarily remain 
(for the present at all events) an unacted play ; and to ask 
public attention to a play so circumstanced would be at best 
useless. 

On the other hand, the interest this comedy seems to have 
excited, not merely in the few literary friends who have 
read it, but in those professional quarters to which it was 
submitted anonymously, at a time when I had some thoughts 
of endeavouring to bring it on the stage, has tempted me 
to believe that it may be worth preserving from the acci- 
dents which attend a manuscript state. But I cannot per- 
suade myself to print it, even for private circulation, with- 
out endeavouring to fortify myself in that step by citing two 
or three brief extracts from those critical opinions which have 
alone induced me to take it.* 

As the only practical objection that has hitherto been urged 
against this Comedy as an acting play is, that its persons talk 
too much in proportion to the amount of action and incident in 
which they are engaged, I may perhaps be excused for citing 

* See Note at the end of the Play. 



VI 



an anecdote apropos to this point. It is related of one of the 
small wits of Sheridan's day, Jekyll, that, on first seeing the 
" School for Scandal " performed, at the end of the third Act 
he turned to a friend beside hun, and said, " When will these 
ladies and gentlemen leave off talking and begin the Play ?" 

Now, considering that the comedy at which this '•'■ hiss by 
imphcation" was pointed was at that time, and remains to 
this day, the most successful acting Play that was ever put 
upon the modern Stage, the validity of the above criticism 
seems more than questionable. 

In fact, it may be fairly doubted (and the practice of our most 
successful dramatists in this line seems to strengthen the doubt) 
whether incessant '' Action — action — action " is not incompa- 
tible, not merely with unfailing point and brilliance of dia- 
logue, but with a just, careful, and efficient development of 
character; which latter qualities are the marking features of 
Sheridan's two incomparable comedies, and of every successful 
one of the same or a similar type which has illustrated the 
stage of our own day, but especially of the most successful — 
those of Sir E. Bulwer Lytton and Douglas Jerrold. It is not 
indeed to be denied that rapid movement and profuse action 
are the elements most favourable to popular success, even in a 
drama of this class; but it may be questioned whether they 
are not to a great extent incompatible with a due acceptance 
and appreciation, on the part of the spectator, of those other 
and more intellectual elements the absence of which must be 
fatal to any attempt in the higher branches of Comedy. 

As no name but mine can at present be connected with this 

Comedy, it seems proper to state that it is a joint production, 

— ^my share in it being confined, with trifling exceptions, to 

the Dialogue portion. 

P. G. P. 



§xmuih ^feaitct. 



Sir Frederick Falkland. 
Sir Harry Headlong. 
The Hon. Charles Idleton. 
Captain Belton. 

WiLDGOOSE. 

Knowall. 

IssACHAR (« Jew Money-lender). 
Trusty (Steward to Wildgoose). 
Frank ( Valet to Wildgoose). 
Tom (Groom to Wildgoose). 
Servants, Sfc. 



Lady Falkland. 
Madame Beaumonde. 
Louisa (Sister to Lady Falkland). 
Emma Belton (Sister to Belton), 
Mrs Lajviode (a French Milliner). 
Lucy (Lady Falkland's Maid). 

Scene — London. 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 



A C T I. 

SCENE — A drawing-room in Sir Frederick Falkland's house. 
Lady Falkland and Louisa. 

Louisa. — ^Nay, my dear sister, I'm sure there is something. 
You are not like yourself— you, who ought to be the happiest 
woman in the world — 

Lady Falkland. — 'Tis nothing, I tell you — nothing ! 

Louisa. — Nay — I'm confident something has happened. 
You are restless — uneasy — 

Lady Falkland (jpettisldy). — Uneasy ! — ridiculous. 

Louisa. — Just so. We are always ridiculous when we make 
ourselves uneasy about what may be not worth a thought. 
(Then^ in a bantering tone.) But come — unfold to me this 
heart-piercing grief, which has converted the once lively 
Caroline Falkland into a copy of the pretty clock-work figures 
one meets with at a county ball, — whose tongues strike "Yes" 
or " No " once in a quarter of an hour — like the dials on their 
chimney-pieces. 

Lady Falkland. — Psha ! 

Louisa (in the same tone). — Come, my dear CaroHne, tell 
me — ^what is this mighty misfortune? Has your favourite, 
Maradan, played you false, and let Lady Modelove see her 
new spring importation first? or has Melnotte for once mis- 
fitted that most mignon of feet? or (worst of all!) is Nardin 

B 



;• 



2 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

laid up with a fit of the gout, and cannot dress you for the 
Drawing-room to-morrow? 

Lady Falkland. — This trifling may be witty, Louisa, but 
it is not kind. 

Louisa. — Nay, my dear Carohne, pardon me, if 

Lady Falkland (relenting). — Rather pardon me, Louisa. 
But when one's temper is stung by disappointment, even the 
smile of affection is construed into the sneer of ridicule. The 
truth is, I am rmeasy — very uneasy — 

Louisa. — Seriously, then — have I not reason to be surprised 
beyond measure at such a declaration from you — you — the 
very pet of fortune, and idol of the fashionable world — married 
to a man, young, handsome, accomplished, rich — the man of 

your choice — who adores you 

Lady Falkland. — Ah ! my dear Louisa. 
Louisa. — Why surely that sigh is not a reproach to your 
husband's want of affection? You are silent. Is it possible 
that Sir Frederick Falkland — -the most indulgent of husbands 
— whose every wish seems gratified when you are happy^— 
who leaves your inclinations free as air, and never pesters you 
with impertinent inquiries of — where you have been — what 
you have done — whom you have seen — and so forth, — as some 
lordly brutes do — ^is it possible this dear, charming pattern of 
a husband can want the crowning virtue of all — affection? 
Lady Falkland.— Perhaps in your opinion he may not. 
Louisa. — Why, is that a point on which women can mate- 
rially differ ? 

Lady Falkland. — Ay — wonderfiilly! But come — let us 
hear how you sum up the proofs of a husband's affection. 

Louisa. — ^Why — let me see ; — in the first place I would have 
him never fond of me before company, and never tired of me 
when we are alone together — never away when I have a right 
to expect him with me, and never with me when I want him 
to be away. I would have him never interfere with my 



MAEKIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 3 

occupations and amusements wliile tKey do not interfere with his 
[ honour or peace of mind. I would have him see all my foibles, 
but never seem to see any of them. I would have him never 
reason with me without a smile of love on his lips — never out 
of temper, never jealous — 

Lady Falkland. — Jealous 1 — ah, my dear sister ! 

Louisa. — Why, surely Sir Frederick 

Lady Falkland. — My dear Louisa, hear me. I will no 
longer conceal from you the cause of my deep uneasiness. 
You have observed the marked attentions with wliich that 
profligate Belton is incessantly pestering me, and you know 

how much I detest them ; yet my husband 

Louisa. — Why, he is not jealous, I hope? Nay, then, 
indeed, Caroline, I see real cause for your uneasiness. But 
tell me — 

Lady Falkland. — My dear Louisa, it is because my hus- 
band is not jealous that I am unhappy. 

Louisa. — Because he is not jealous ! — ha, ha, ha I Excuse 
my laughing, Caroline. Because he is not jealous ! Then, I 
suppose, you hold that suspicion is the surest proof of conjugal 
/ affection — that a man does not love his wife unless he locks 
her up — and that a good sound beating completes the beati- 
tude of married life ! 

Lady Falkland. — Have done with this raillery, Louisa. 
I repeat to you — I cannot bear the indifference my husband 
seems to feel, now that I am wholly and irrevocably his ; and 
it makes me the more unhappy, as I know it is not his natural 
temper. 

Louisa. — Oh — then he did oblige you by being jealous 
before marriage ? 

Lady Falkland. — It was his sensitive nature that endeared 
him to me. The anxiety with which he watched the increase 
of my affection for him, and the agonies he experienced from 
the least semblance of coquetry in my behaviour to others, 



4 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

marked his mind as one congenial with my own. But, alas ! 
marriage has changed all this ; and now, he sees with the 
utmost imconcern a host of coxcombs flutter round me, and 
insult me with their odious gallantry before his face. 
Louisa. — Surely you wrong your husband. 
Lady Faj.kland. — Ah 1 — that awful name of " husband !" 
He did not feel so happy and so secure when he was a lover. 

Louisa. — ^No ; — nor ought he. But you would have him 
" husband" and " lover " too. No man has any right to feel 
perfectly secure of a woman's heart till he has fairly won her 
hand. It therefore becomes every lover to be a little jealous. 
It is a lively " variation " to the somewhat monotonous theme 
of our Enghsh method of courtsliip. Jealousy is a testimonial 
to her attractions which every handsome woman has a right 
to exact from her lover; and she may fairly suspect the 
pretender who withholds that involuntary tribute to the 
supremacy of her charms. But jealousy in a husband! — be 
1 assured, Caroline, it denotes anything but true affection. No 
man ever loved the wife of whose faith he could feel the 
I smallest doubt. 

Lady Falkland. — Well, my dear sister, say what you 
will, I shall never be at peace tiU I see my husband jealous. 

Louisa. — And when you do see him jealous, I'll answer for 
it you'll never be at peace ; — ^for, of all the torments of life, a 
husband jealous without cause must be at once the most 
intolerable and the most ridiculous. 

Lady Falkland. — Not so intolerable as an indifferent one 
though more ridiculous, perhaps.; — and where is the woman 
who objects to see a man make himself silly now and then, 
when in doing so he proves the strength of his affection for 
her? 

Louisa. — Trust me, sister, as no man is over-confident before 
marriage but from personal vanity, so no man is wrongly mis- 
trustful after marriage but from a secret sense of personal 



MAHEIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 5 

unworthiness. Sir Frederick Falkland is too sensible a man 
to be jealous of you^ and he is too honourable a man to be 
jealous of himself. Besides, my dear, think of the accom- 
plished, the elegant, the fashionable Sir Frederick Falkland — 
fashionable in all things but the vices and follies of fashion — 
appearing to the world in the vulgar character of ' ' The 
Jealous Husband !" — Why, you'll have yourselves put into a 
new comedy, or a fashionable novel, for the mingled amuse- 
ment and instruction of the town ! 

Lady Falkland. — Better anything than have my husband 
so indifferent as patiently to see his wife receive the insulting 
attentions — almost the open professions of love — of an avowed 
and successful libertine like Belton, You must have seen how 
he has persecuted me lately, Louisa ? 

Louisa. — If civility be persecution, Mr Belton is certainly 
guilty of that crime towards you ; but, I believe you are the 
only person who will charge him with it. 

Lady Falkland. — For my part, I had rather be subjected 
to the shallow satire in which he indulges himself at the 
expense of all his other acquaintance, than be distinguished by 
such marks of his partiality ; and if it were not that I am 
determined in some way or other to make my husband jealous, 
I would have got rid of Mr Belton's odious " civilities " 
long ago. 

Louisa, — But my dear heroic sister, how can you expect 
the poor man to take the trouble of being jealous of you when 
you don't do Mm that favour, though you see him the 
chosen object of coquetry with half the married flirts in town ? 

Lady Falkland. — My pride would not suffer me to own 
my feelings, even if I doubted his faith — which at present I do 
not. It is his indifference I dread — his honour I have never 
yet suspected. 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 



Enter Idleton, in dressing-gown and slippers^ as just risen, 

Louisa. — What — Cousin Idleton ! — is it possible you did not 
go out of town last niglit, as you settled you would ? Why, 
we saw your travelling carriage at the door as we came home 
from the Opera. What on earth could have kept you in 
town ? 

Idleton (in a drawling and listless tone throughou£). — ^Was 
I going ? — oh — ay — I remember — though, faith, I quite forget 
what it was detained me. I dare say it was some stupid 
blunder of my people. They're always mistaking my orders, 
though I give them so clearly — except that I sometimes forget 
the trifling particulars of time, place, and all that. 

Louisa. — Yes — you tell them everything but exactly what 
you want them to remember. 

Idleton. — ^You know I was engaged to dine with Frank — 
what's his name ? — I never can recoUect people's names. He 
lives in — what do you call the street ? — I never could remem- 
ber the names of streets — it runs out of the Square where — 
however I was engaged to dine with somebody; but as I 
couldn't recollect who it was, I was obhged to leave my fellow 
to guess. And where do you think he took me ? 

Louisa. — / can't guess, I'm sure. 

Idleton. — Do. 

Louisa. — I can't. 

Idleton. — I wish you would — for I can't, for the life of 
me, recollect her name. 

Louisa. — Wliat — to a lady's ? 

Idleton. — Ay — that handsome Frenchwoman, who talks so 
fast — you know her, both of you — Falkland's favourite. By 
the bye, Falkland dined there with us. 

1jAT>y Yal^IjKKD (now first seeming to listen). — Did he? 
At whose house did you say it was ? 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 7 

Louisa. — I suppose he means our lively, laughing acquaint- 
ance, Madame Beaumonde, the brilliant Parisian widow. 

Idleton. — The same. Upon my soul she's a charming 
woman, and said a number of good things. I'd tell you 
some of them, only I never can recollect what people say. 

Lady Falkland. — And Sir Frederick, you say, was there? 

Idleton. — Yes — and very brilliant he was, too. 

Lady Falkland. — Indeed ! 

Idleton. — Yes ; there was one capital thing he said-^about 
your picture in the Exhibition. 

Lady Falkland. — Indeed 1 {Aside.) He hears me made 
the jest of his acquaintance, I suppose. [Aloud?) I should 
like to hear it. 

Idleton. — Let me see — Madame said that — that is, Falk- 
land said — in short, it was excessively good indeed — every- 
body laughed — ^you'd have been monstrously entertained. 

Lady Falkland. — And Frederick laughed ? 

Idleton. — ^Yes. And when somebody rallied him about 
being jealous of you — — 

Lady Falkland (eagerly). — Jealous ? What — do you 
think he is jealous then ? 

Idleton. — Jealous ! Not he — no more jealous than you 
are of him. 

Lady Falkland (aside). — Provoking ! 

Enter Servant. 

Servant. — Sir, your servant waits with the horses — do 
you ride this morning ? 

Idleton.— Eh? — Ride? — 0~yes — that is — I don't know 
— let him wait. (Exit Servayit). No, no, cousin ; don't make 
yourself uneasy about that matter — Falkland has too much 
sense to be jealous. 

Lady Falkland. — Wliat — do you think that sense and 
sensibility are incompatible ? 



8 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

Idleton {with a mystified air). — Eh ? — sensibility ? — sense ? 
—eh? 

Lady Falkland. — Surely you will not deny that the most 
refined minds are often tinctured with jealousy ? 

Idleton. — Eh ? — Oh yes — I dare say — 

Lady Falkland. — ^Why, then, what reason can you have 
for— 

Idleton. — Reason ! Lud, cousin, you know I hate having 
a reason — I never had a reason for anything in my life. 
Why, I would vacate my seat in the House to-morrow, rather 
than be obhged to have a reason for any of my votes — and 
so I beheve would many more besides myself 

Lady Falkland (aside). — My warmth had almost betrayed 
me. (To him.) Ha ! ha ! ha ! — Well, you are perfectly right, 
cousin Idleton ; jealousy is certainly very ridiculous ; though I 
dare say you thought, by the warmth of my manner, that I 
was really in earnest, and meant what I said. 

Idleton. — O dear, no — I have so often seen people in the 
place I was just speaking of show a vast deal of warmth 
without beheving a word of what they wished to make others 
beheve, that I don't judge hastily on such occasions. (He 
saunters to the bell, and rings). 

Lady Falkland. — ^Well, adieu ! I shall call on Madame 
Beaumonde, and we will laugh over the conversation of 
yesterday. 

Louisa. — And leave cousin Idleton to perform a feat of 
horsemanship which Ducrow himself never dreamt of — ^to ride 
in his sleep ! (Exeunt Lady Falkland and Louisa^ 

Enter Servant. 

Servant. — Did you ring, sir ? 

Idleton. — Eh?— cZz'tZ I ring — oh, yes — ^have the goodness 
to tell my man to bring the horses round. 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 9 

Servant. — Sir ? — He has been in waiting with them this 
half hour, sir, by your orders. 

Idleton. — Eh ? — oh, well — ^tell him I'm coming presently — 
stay — and tell him — ^tell him I shan't ride to-day. 

Servant. — Yes, sir — but I'll tell him to wait, sir — ^you may 
change your mind, you know, sir. 

Idleton". — Change my mind ! Come, that's very good. As 
if I could take so much trouble ! Be good enough to fetch 
me the ' Morning Post.' {Exit Servant, who re-enters almost 
immediately?) 

Servant. — Mr Knowall, sir. 

Enter KJs-OWALL. 

Idleton. — Ah, Knowall. {To Servant). You needn't fetch 
me the * Morning Post ' now. Mr Knowall answers all the 
purpose, and without the trouble of reading him. {Exit 
Servant?) 

KJNOWALL. — How are you, Idleton? I met your servant an 
hour ago, and he said you were going out immediately, so I 
knew I should find you at home. 

Idleton. — Eh? — oh. Well, is there anything new at the 
clubs? 

Knowall. — Why, I was going to ask you; but your memory 
makes such a chaos of all you hear, that your stories are like 
the scandalous paragraphs in the Sunday papers — so full of 
blanks and dashes, that nobody can comprehend them without 
knowing all about the subject matter beforehand. 

Idleton. — ^Why, really, one hears such a jumble of intelli- 
gence in the course of the day, that it requires a sort of 
chemical process to separate the various kinds of nonsense 
fi-om one another. 

KJNOWALL. — Come, you know my anxiety to learn — try at 
a bit of news, now — something striking — something extraor- 
dinary. You've always the elements of some strange story 



10 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR, 

floating confusedly in your brain, though you never remember 
any of the particulars, nor how you came by it. Now I dote 
on details. The best bit of scandal in the world is not worth 
repeating unless one can give the minutest particulars of time, 
place, parties, and so forth — *' names, weights, and colours of 
the riders" — as the racing cards have it — eh? But come — 
your news. 

Idleton. — Something extraordinary? Why, it must be 
very extraordinary indeed if yon don't know it. I suppose 

you've heard of the girl in the next street, who 

Knowall (interrupting). — What, Miss Trinkett, who eloped 
with her father's footman the day before she was to be married? 
Yes ; but her intended husband was fifty, and she fifteen, so 
there's nothing extraordinary in that. 

Idleton". — Well, there's the new-married lady next door — 

Ej^owall (interrupting). — Who was seen going from the 

Opera the other night with Colonel Cartridge, and came home 

about dinner-time the next day? Yes, but the colonel's her 

1 husband's particular fiiend, you know, so there's nothing 

1 extraordinary in that. 

Idleton. — Have you heard of our friend — what's his name? 
shooting himself? 

Knowall. — ^Nothing extraordinary in one's fiiends shooting 
themselves now-a-days — but whom do you mean ? 
Idleton. — Psha ! you must recollect his name. 
Knowall. — Not I — it's impossible to remember the names 
of all the people who shoot themselves. 

Idleton. — It was because his wife ran away from him. 
Knowall. — ^Well, there is something extraordinary in that 
i — ^in a man of fashion too! 

Idleton. — Yes ; and he made his steward pay all his trades- 
men their bills before he loaded his pistols. 

Knowall. — Come, you have hit upon something extraordi- 
nary at last. But whom do you mean ? 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 11 

Idleton. — Why the man — what the deuce is his name — I 
never can recollect people's names — but his always reminds me 
of his wife's diamond necklace. 

Knowall. — What, Sparkle? Oh, I heard of his accident, 
poor man, a week ago. 

Idleton. — The devil you did? Why it only happened 
yesterday. 

Knowall. — ^Well, I knew it would happen, and that's much 
the same thing. 

Idleton. — As you seem so intimately acquainted with 
everything that happens or will happen, I wish you would 
save me the trouble of relating it to you. 

Knowall. — Ha ! ha ! ha ! Why, I believe I have as good 
information as most people. 

Enter Servant 

Servant (to Idleton). — Mr Belton, sir. 

Idleton. — Oh, show him in. 

Knowall. — Then I'm off. I don't like that Belton — he's 
so cursedly satirical. But I say, Idleton, what does he want 
here? (Aside.) Something going on — I'll stay and see. (To 
Idleton.) Lady Falkland — eh? (significantly). 

Eiiter Belton, and exit Servant. 

Knowall. — Ah, my dear Belton, I was this moment talk- 
ing of you. 

Belton. — Indeed ! What folly have I been committing, to 
merit that? But it's some consolation that my disgrace will 
not be made public ; for even if Idleton attended to what you've 
been inventing about me, he'll be sure to forget my name, and 
tell the story of somebody else. 

Knowall. — Ha ! ha ! ha ! — excellent. 

Idleton. — What was that ? 

Knowall. — Something deuced severe. 



12 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

Idleton. — Indeed ! — I like severe tilings — ^they tell me I say- 
severe things myself sometimes. ( Yawns.) 

Belton. — Who was it said so severe a thing as that? By 
the bye, Idleton, do you know how long Lady Falkland has 
been gone out ? (Aside.) I very much suspect she is denied 
to me. 

Idleton. — How long is it, Knowall ? I think she was here 
just now. Wasn't she ? You were saying 

Knowall. — I ? — I never saw her ladyship in my life. 

Belton. (Aside.) A thought strikes me. It will serve to 
mask my designs on Lady Falkland, which already begin to be 
suspected. (To Knowall.) You say you don't know Lady 
Falkland. Are you acquainted with Sir Frederick ? 

Knowall. — Can't say I recollect him — ^I've heard something 
of him though — -jealous of his wife, isn't he, Idleton? 

Idleton, — Jealous? eh? Yes — no — I declare I quite forget; 
but I dare say he is — all husbands are, you know. 

Belton (aside). — But then how to get rid of Idleton ? (To 
him.) Idleton, if you love ease well enough to take a little 
trouble in securing it, now's your time. Adams is this very 
day going to send abroad a britzka on an entirely new con- 
struction — so easy that you wouldn't know it moved it all. 
Travelling in it is as good as sitting still at home. 

Idleton. — But my cab isn't here, and I'm fatigued to death 
with talking to KJnowall. 

Belton. — Take mine — it's at the door. Come, dress and be 
off — ^you'll never forgive yourself if you lose this opportunity. 

Idleton. — ^Well, but, my dear fellow, I — really (Ea;it 

Idleton, Belton pushing him out.) 

Enter Sir Frederick Falkland, at the opposite side. 

Belton (running up to him^ and speaking aside). — My 
dear Sir Frederick, I've brought you an oddity, for your 
amusement. He pretends to know everything, and like 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 13 

the pKilosoplier of old, his wisdom consists in knowing 
nothing at all. Then he'll lie, like an oracle or an auctioneer ; 
and if you happen to detect one of his forged scandals by the 
sound (as they do bad shillings), he'll coin you twenty more 
on the spot, as vouchers for his veracity. As two negatives 
make an affirmative, he doesn't seej why two lies shouldn't 
make a truth, or pass current for one, which is all he cares 
about. 

Knowall (aside). — ^What the devil is Belton whispering to 
that person ? 

Belton {introducing Sir Frederick to Knowall). — 
Knowall, this is a particular friend of Sir Frederick Falkland's. 
{Aside to Knowall.) A precious stupid fellow — ^you may 
make him believe anything. {Aloud to Sir Frederick.) 
When did you see our friend Sir Frederick Falkland ? 

Sir Frederick. — I had just a glimpse of him this morning 
— {aside) — in the looking-glass ! 

Belton. — I wonder, Knowall, that you, who are acquainted 
with everybody, should not know Sir Frederick Falkland, 
Knowall. — Oh, on recollection I do know him. 
Belton. — ^Why, what sort of a man is he ? 
Knowall. — Oh, a little, light-haired man — ^rather mean 
looking. 

Sir Frederick. — Little ! — ^light-haired ! — ^ha ! ha ! Sir 
Frederick Falkland is dark, and as tall as I am. 

Knowall. — ^Well, he appeared to me to be short — middle- 
sized, perhaps — or rather inclining to be tall. 

Belton. — And what do you think of Lady Falkland, 
Knowall ? 

Knowall. — Rather a plain woman — and such a flirt ! 
Sir Frederick {annoyed). — A flirt!— plain 1 I believe, sir, 
I may boast a rather more intimate acquaintance with Lady 
Falkland than you can, and I have always thought hel: 

remarkably handsome ; and as to her being a flirt 

Belton {interrupting). — By the bye, Knowall, I don't be- 



14 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

lieve a word of that scandalous story you told me tlie other 
day of Lady Falkland and Captain Racket. 
Sir Frederick. — Of Lady Falkland ? 
Belton". — Yes ; a ridiculous story of her being escorted from 
the Opera by a Captain — Racket — wasn't it Racket, Knowall? 
Why, you won't deny you told it to me? 

Knowall (aside). — Deuce take me if I recollect a word of 
it. {Aloud) Eh ? Did I ? 

Belton. — Wliy, all the town is talking of it. 
Sir Frederick. — Talking of Lady Falkland ! — {Aside) I 
shall expose myself presently. 

Belton {aside, looking at Falkland). — He feels it, I see. 
Knowall {aside). — If all the town is talking of it, I suppose 
I may safely own to it. {Aloud) Why, Belton, you know 
when I relate a thing, I always have good authority for it. 
{To Sir Frederick.) There certainly is no doubt, sir, that 
the lady did leave the Opera with Captain {aside) — who did 
he say? {Aside to Belton.) Captain — Racket, didn't you 
say? {He assents) {Aloud) With Captain Racket. 

Sir Frederick {eagerly). — Captain Racket ! Wlien, sir ? 
Knowall. — Why, on Saturday week {aside, to Belton) — 
wasn't it Saturday ? — Yes, Saturday ! — Oh, it's beyond all 
contradiction. 

Sir Frederick. — Except mine, sir, for I was with the lady 
at Sir Frederick's country place that very evening. 

Belton. — There, Knowall, you see what your authority 
amounts to. I suppose all the other nonsensical tales you 
have told of the same lady have as much foundation. 

Knowall {aside)» — I shall get into a scrape here — I had 
better be off. {Aloud.) Why, as to that, I can only say I had 
as good authority for one as for the others ; and I believe it, 
every word. But I can't lose my time in giving you explana- 
tions — I'm now half-an-hour beyond my appointment with Sir 
Harry Headlong. Gentlemen, yours. {Exit) 
Belton. — Ha ! ha ! ha ! 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 15 

Sir Frederick. — Call Mm back, Belton. He believes every 
word of it ? 'Sdeatli ! who is tbis Captain Racket ? I must 
have this explained ! 

Belton. — My dear Falkland, can it require explanation ? 
Sir Frederick. — What, sir I wben Lady Falkland's honour 

is in question ? — when my peace of mind 

Belton. — Nay; if you are serious, I'll ease your inquietude 
at once, by assuring you that no such person as Captain 
Racket exists, and that the whole story was an extempore 
mystification of my own, intended merely to amuse you by an 
exhibition of Knowall's passion for telling news that he never 
heard, and pretending intimacy with people he don't know. 
But, my dear Falkland {seizmg his hand with apparent interest), 
you have exposed to me a feature in your character that I 
never perceived before — you are positively a jealous husband. 

Sir Frederick. — Jealous ? — -jealous ! Come, that's very 
good! there's a distinction between jealousy and that regard 
which a husband feels for his wife's honour. 

Belton. — ^A distinction, I suspect, too nice to be perceived 
by anybody but a jealous husband! 

Sir Frederick. — Bravo, Belton ! and so you think with 
that grave face to persuade me that you really beheve me 
jealous ! when you have so often heard me declare how 
absurd I think it. 

Belton (ironically). — Often ! 

Sir Frederick. — I vow I know nothing that places a man 
in so ridiculous a point of view. 
Belton (ironically). — Nothing! 

Sir Frederick. — There are, I know, some Quixotes in love, 
who measure the amount of their attachment by the degree to 
which they make the object of it miserable. Now, for my 
part, I love Lady Falkland very well; but I don't recollect 
that my affection for her ever extended to making me wish 
her and myself at the devil, merely because she might 
have said "How d'ye do ?" to a smart fellow, with a smile 



16 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

upon her face. {Aside.) He certainly perceives my uneasi- 
ness. 

Belton. — I'm glad to hear it — I feared it was otherwise. 

Sir Frederick.— Besides, when a man is really jealous, it is 
impossible for him to conceal it. The more pains he takes to 
hide his unfortunate temper, the more evidently it shows 
itself 

Belton (ironically). — ^Very true, indeed. 

Sir Frederick. — I jealous — ha ! ha ! ha ! I can't help 
laughing at the very idea. 

Belton (the same). — So I see ; and you laugh so naturally 
too! 

Sir Frederick. — I hope I have convinced you. 

Belton. — Oh, perfectly! The fact is, my dear Falkland, 
your heart is a perfect combustible, and one spark of suspicion 
falling on it would turn it into a firework, for the amusement 
of your friends. 

Sir Frederick. — ^Absurd ! 

Belton. — You have as much of the romantic in you as a 
lady's-maid, or a country circulating library, and when the 
whim seizes you, would cut the throat of your best friend for 
even looking at your wife. 

Sir Frederick. — Captain Belton, you 

Belton. — ^Nay, Falkland, don't be offended — you have too 
much good sense to be angry at the truth ; and I think it 

so friendly an act to let you know it, that come — ^I'll 

bet you five hundred to your new britzska and bays, that 
I'll make you seriously jealous, even of me. 

Sir Frederick. — 'Faith, Belton, if I had that latent spark 
of jealousy in my composition which you talk of, I know of 
no man more dangerously qualified to Hght it into a flame 
than yourself. But whether it proceeds fi:om vanity, or fi:om 
the natural indifference of my disposition, I think even your 
pretensions 

Belton. — Ha! ha! ha! Well, it's a bet, then? 



MAERIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 17 

Sir Frederick. — Ay, if you like. 

Belton. — Done, tKen! But, remember, I am permitted to 
come in and out as I like, and talk a little nonsense to Lady 
Falkland, without the fear of twelve paces and an inquest 
before my eyes ! Upon these conditions, I engage to show 
you the gallant and accomplished Sir Frederick Falkland, 
running out of his very wits for jealousy, at the innocent 
attentions paid to his wife by so insignificant a person as Harry 
Belton! lExit. 

Sir Frederick. — What's to be done now? Belton 
has certainly discovered my ridiculous foible — -that I would 
hide from all the world — even from myself ! Oh, Caroline ! 
what a woman would she be, had she but a soul sensitive as 
mine I But, alas ! notwithstanding all her beauty, all her 
accomplishments, that exquisite sensibility is wanting which 
can alone fitly complete the female character. If I could but 
make her jealous, by trifling with Madame Beaumonde ! ah ! 
there is no concealing it — indifference to a husband is the 
first step towards the reception of a lover. [Exit 



END OF ACT I, 



ACT II, 



SCENE — A draioing-room in Madame Beaumondes house. 
Madame B. is adjusting her hair, Sfc, at a mirror. Enter a 
servant, ivho announces Mr Belton, who follows. 

Madame Beaumonde and Belton. 

Belton. — Good morning, Madame Beaumonde. You are 
late at your toilette. 

Madame Beaumonde. — ^No fault of mine, Mr Belton. I 
am not dressed to please myself. Tlie rouge in your country 
is so bad ! 

Belton. — You surprise me. I have seen as excellent rouge 
in England as in any part of the world. 

Madame Beaumonde. — ^You have ? Pray tell me where. 
I can get none in London fit to be used. 

Belton. — Why, in London, indeed, you are not likely to 
meet with it ; but in the country I could show you specimens 
on the cheeks of some Englishwomen that would shame all 
Paris. But I'm afraid you'll think they pay too high a price 
for it? 

Madame Beaumonde. — Impossible ! My dear Mr Belton, 
tell me where it is to be got ? 

Belton. — Why, I have seen it procured by rising every day 
with the sun — milking half-a-dozen cows before breakfast — 
walking three or four miles to church on a Sunday— and, 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 19 

now and then, jumping a country dance on the village green, 
to tlie melodious strains of a blind fiddler. 

Madame Beaumonde. — Ah, U monstre! But I forgot — 
you're a wit, Mr Belton ; and a wit, like an Opera-dancer, 
requires incessant practice. Inactivity is equally fatal to the 
tongue of the one and the toe of the other. 

Belton. — You are happy in your similes this morning. 

Madame Beaumonde. — To show you that I duly value so 
scarce an honour as Mr Belton's approval, I'll try another. 
We may compare the head of a professed wit — Mr Belton's, 
for instance — to Maradan's or Herbault's brilhant show-rooms : 
whilst the wit, like the fashionable modiste, can keep up a con- 
stant supply of fresh articles, the novelty of the display makes 
up for the flimsiness of the material ; but the moment either 
fails to produce that " soul of wit " — not " brevity," as one of 
your poets describes it, but nouveaute — we women are apt to 
fly to another of the trade. The truth is, I begin to grow 
tired of you, Mr Belton. 

Belton. — That is because I have left off making love to you. 

Madame Beaumonde. — No — it is because you have said all 
your handsome things to me twice or thrice over — and 

Belton. — Hold ! hold ! I cry for quarter. Is it not enough 
that you have given me one signal defeat, by blighting my 
ambitious hopes of succeeding to the vacant place in your 
heart ? 

Madame Beaumonde (more seriousli/). — The general, Mr 
Belton, who besieges a fortress without learning beforehand 
the strength of the garrison deserves to be defeated. 

Belton. — True ; but a British general is apt to believe no 
place impregnable till he himself has failed to carry it. 

Madame Beaumonde. — A man of true gallantry, Mr Belton, 
will always believe the citadel of a lady's heart to be impreg- 
nable till success undeceives him ; whereas you wits and fine 
gentlemen expect to carry the place by a coup-de-main^ with- 



20 MAREIAGE IN MAY TAIE. 

out even the ceremony of a formal summons — a manoeuvre, I 
suspect, that you never dream of, unless as a ruse-de-guerre. 

Belton. — ^Nay — this is not fair — you fire on my flag of 
truce. I have ceased to approach you in hostile array — all I 
ask is to be allowed to capitulate, and be henceforth regarded 
as a friend and ally. 

Madame Beaumonde. — In order that you may be in a con- 
dition to draw off your forces, and carry the war into some 
more assailable quarter? 

Belton. — Better be iipon actual duty, however perilous, 
than starving upon half-pay ! 

Madame Beaumonde. — And may I ask the name of the 
fair enemy against whom your tactics are at present employed? 

Belton. — ^What think you of your new friend, Lady Falk- 
land ? 

Madame Beaumonde. — Lady Falkland ! — {aside) — This 
must be looked to. I would not for the world have my sweet 
little sentimental friend fall into the snares of this clever liber- 
tine. {To him.) Lady Falkland ? 

Belton. — Yes — a lovely woman, married to a man who, 
though a very accomplished feUow, is totally indifferent to all 
her charms — and for the best reason in the world. 

Madame Beaumonde. — ^And what may that be ? 

Belton. — Why, that he has become a captive to the brilliant 
eyes and sparkling wit of a certain Parisian widow — {aside) — 
I suspect she likes Falkland — and if I can but persuade her 
that he is in love with her, and thus make her look upon his 
wife as her rival, the natural malice of the sex will induce her 
to aid in sacrificing that rival to me. 

Madame Beaumonde. — You jest. What can Sir Frederick 
Falkland ever have said to justify your suspicion ? 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 21 

Enter a Page. 

t Page. — Sir Frederick Falkland, Madame. 

Beltojst. — ^You had better question him yourself. 

Enter SiR Frederick Falkland. Exit Page. 

Sir Frederick. — You see, Madame Beaumonde, I take ad- 
vantage of your Parisian habits to visit you unsanctioned by 
the presence of my wife. {To Belton.) Ah, Belton ! always 
basking in the beams of beauty's eyes. 

Belton {aside to Falkland?) — I suspect the warmest of 
those beams are reserved for you^ Falkland. But of course 
your Orcadian passion for your wife has armed you against 
their influence. {Falkland and Madame Beaumonde talk 
apart.) Lucky that he should come in just at this mo- 
ment. Now, kind fortune, help me to make Falkland and 
the little widow in love with each other (if they are not so 
already), and my designs on Lady Falkland are half accom- 
plished. 

Sir Frederick. — Ha! ha! ha! Will you ne\er leave off 
saying rude things, Belton? Madame Beaumonde tells me 
you and she have just had a smart skirmish of wit. 

Belton. — In which I have been so worsted that I shall beat 
a retreat. Perhaps you may succeed better, This I can 
promise you — the lady will defend her colours to the last. Au 
revoir Madame Beaumonde — Adieu, Falkland. {Exit.) 

Sir Frederick. — Well— I do confess that I think rouge 
upon a handsome woman — 

Madame Beaumonde {interrupting him). — Before I hear 
your confession you must tell me what is Lady Falkland's 
opinion; for I hold it to be downright treason against the laws 
of taste for a man to differ from his wife on a point of this 
nature. 

Sir Frederick. — You will perceive by this {showing her 



22 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

Lady Falkland's portrait in a ring) that Lady Falkland does 
not disdain to appear in colours not her own. 

Madame Beaumonde. — Ah mon Dieu! Your wife's picture 
in a ring ! {taking it off his finger). My dear Sir Frederick, is 
it because you are so true a turtle as not to be able to live 
apart from the image of your mate that you wear this ? Or is 
it that, fearing your own natural frailty and inconstancy, you 
carry it about with you as a talisman to preserve you from 
the spells of other enchantresses ? 

Sir Frederick. — Madame, I — 

Madame Beaumonde. — Or perhaps you regard it as a sort 
of melancholy memento of your fate? As a death's-head tells 
a self-denying saint — " Alas ! thou art mortal !" So this pretty 
e^gy is to remind the gay Sir Frederick Falkland — "Alas! 
thou art married !" But really I have too much regard for 
both of you to let you make yourselves ridiculous any longer. 
I'll send this ring to my jewellers, and have it re-set for you in 
some other form. 

Sir Frederick (aside). — I would not have it touched for 
the world — it was her first gift to me. 

Madame Beaumonde. — Let me see — what do you say to 
having the bauble converted into a locket? It may then repose 
on your bosom — a rather more appropriate bestowal of it than 
it lately boasted. Yes — a locket it shall be. 

Sir Frederick. — Consider, my dear Madame Beaumonde, 
the trouble this will be giving you. 

Madame Beaumonde. — Consider, my dear Sir Frederick 
Falkland, the satisfaction of rendering so signal serAdce to two 
friends ! and if I do constrain your inchnation a little, 'tis but a 
gentle violence. 

Sir Frederick. — ^Well — since you allow a " gentle vio- 
lence" — {He struggles ivith her for the ring, during which Lady 
Falkland enters, p7^eceded hy a Page, who announces her). 
Caroline here ! — This is just as I could have wished. If 



MAEEIAGE IN MAY FAIE. 23 

slie will but show a little jealousy now I shall be the happiest 
of m'en. 

Lady Falkland (suppressing her feelings and assuming 
affected indifference). — I beg pardon — really, I — I shoTild make 
a thousand apologies, Madame Beaumonde — the servant told 
me he thought you were alone — {aside) — how I detest him 1 

Madame Beaumonde. — Most opportunely arrived, my 
dear Lady Falkland. I claim your acknowledgments. Thanks 
to my friendly consideration, you will no longer have the mor- 
tification of seeing your portrait adorn the hand of a lordly 
husband. 

Lady Falkland (aside). — Heavens ! has he given her my 
portrait ? 

Madame Beaumonde. — Cannot these men be satisfied with 
our yielding them our liberty, without placarding their triumph 
by openly carrying us about in Q^gj, like prisoners chained 
to the chariot-wheels of their conqueror ? 

Lady Falkland. — Believe me, Madame Beaumonde, you 
will find in England women who are still so unfashionably 
natural as not to be ashamed of owning a husband as their 
best protector and dearest friend. 

Sir Frederick (aside). — Charming creature ! If I could 
but once make her jealous of me ! 

Madame Beaumonde. — Brava, my little philosophic senti- 
mentalist ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! An English married woman 
descanting on the charms of matrimony reminds me of a coun- 
tryman of mine who wrote an essay on the pleasures of solitude 
whilst imprisoned in the Bastille. Well — after your lecture I 
shall make no apology for leaving you together while I write a 
few notes. If your tete-a-tete grows dull for want of contra- 
diction, send for me. (Exit.) 



24 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

(Sir Frederick and Lady Falkland walk about the stage 
embarrassed^ as if considering how they shall address each 
other.) 

Sir Frederick.— rShe's delightfully agitated — ^I begin to 
hope she's growing angry. 

Lady Falkland (aside). — I'd rather die than let him per- 
ceive that I feel his treatment. 

Sir Frederick (aside). — Dear creature ! How happy it 
makes me to see her so miserable ! {To her.) Caroline, my love, 
I dare say this circumstance of the ring must appear a little odd 
to you — it must naturally create a — a kind of — 

Lady Falkland. — Why, I own, Sir Frederick Falkland — 
that is, I — (aside) — what am I about ? I shall expose my un- 
easiness to him. 

Sir Frederick {aside). — ^Yes, yes — she is jealous at last. I 
shall have the gratification of hearing her abuse me presently. 
( To her.) I was going to say, Caroline, that however strange 
. this affair of the portrait may appear, I can give you an ex- 
planation that — 

Lady Falklaj^d. — Oh — explanation is quite superfluous. 

Sir Frederick. — I am persuaded, my dear, that you have 
so full a confidence in me — 

Lady Falkland (ivith forced composure). — Of course I 
have, my love. 

Sir Frederick (aside). — ^Why, then, she's ?zo^ jealous after 
all! 

Lady Falkland. — But really as to this ring — (aside) — I'll 
turn the tables on him. (To him.) I trust, Frederick, you will 
not impute wrong motives to what I am going to say — but — 

Sir Frederick, — Impossible, my love ! — go on — (aside)— 
then she is alive to the jealous agonies of a refined affection ! 

Lady Falkland. — The truth is, Mr Belton has long perse- 
cuted me for my portrait — and — 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 25 

Sir Frederick. — Indeed ! — (aside) — what's coming now ? 

Lady Falkland. — And— I was thinking of giving him 
this ring — which you no longer care about. 

Sir Frederick (aszcie). — I'm confounded! — what I — give 
her portrait to Belton ! — (to her) — Lady Falkland, I — 

Lady Falkland. — I should thus, you know, stop his im- 
portunities, and — but you don't answer me. 

Sir Frederick. — Answer you? — no — that is — ^because — ^in 
short, you have anticipated my intention — I was thinking of 
the very same thing myself 

Lady Falkland (aside). — What horrid insensibihty I— 
thinking of giving a man my portrait ! 

Sir Frederick (aside) . — So — ^the tables are turned on me 
with a vengeance. (To her.) My dear Caroline, you have 
made me happy by showing me how entirely you are a 
stranger to the jealous whims of vulgar minds. 

Laly Falkland (aside). — Why, this is worse and worse ! 
What a turn he has given to my endeavour to excite his sensi- 
bility ! Sensibility ? — ^but he has none. At least, he shall not 
triumph in the belief that I have more than himself 

Sir Frederick. — I own — ^for I will be frank with you, my 
dear Caroline — I own that I feared the little trifling in which 
I have indulged myself with our Parisian friend here might 
have given you some uneasiness. 

Lady Falkland (aside). — He's but too conscious that I 
had cause for uneasiness. (To him.) Well, my love, I hope 
my behaviour on this occasion has proved the contrary. You 
must now be convinced — 

Sir Fredekick. — So fully that I wish no further proof, I 
assure you. (Aside.) Her coldness and indifference dis- 
tract me. 

Lady Falkland. — And as we are opening our hearts to 
each other without reserve, I will confess that you have made 
me as happy as I have made you ; for I have thought it pro- 



26 MAKRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

bable that you miglit be rather disturbed at Mr Belton's 
marked attentions to me. 

Sir Frederick. — ^You must now, however, be assured that — 

Lady Falklaot). — Oh ! entirely— in short, every doubt is 
removed. 

Sir Frederick. — What mistaken opinions we have formed 
of each other ! — ha ! ha ! ha ! — each to fancy the other jealous ! 

Lady Falkland. — Ha I ha 1 ha ! Ridiculous enough, to 
be sure ! 

{Enter Madame Beaumonde.) 

Madame Beaumonde. — I need not apologise for my long 
absence, since I find you in such good humour. I had no 
idea tete-a-tetes between English married couples were so 
lively. 

Sir Frederick. — But ours has been conducted quite on the 
Parisian principle. Lady Falkland and I have agreed that 
jealousy between man and wife is as absurd as it is unfashion- 
able, and we have enjoyed the satisfaction of convincing each 
other that neither has the least tinge of yellow in our com- 
position. 

Lady Falkland. — I can't give a more convincing proof as 
to myself, than by leaving Sir Frederick here while I go and 
finish my calls. {Aside.) I cannot endure her hateful presence 
any longer. 

Madame Beaumonde.— Well — ^I fehcitate you both. Jea- 
lous people are the most ridiculous creatures in nature, and 
every endeavour to conceal their absurd infirmity only exposes 
it the more plainly. 

Lady Falkland (confused). — Certainly — yes — you are 
quite right. 

Sir Frederick (confused). — Undoubtedly — so I have told 
Lady Falkland a thousand times. 

Madame Beaumonde (looking mischievously/ at each in 



MAEEIAGE IN MAY FAIE. 27 

turn).— But everybody may see tliat neither of t/ou have any- 
thing of the kind about you. 

Sir Frederick. — Why no — I flatter myself — that — 

Madame Be aumonde. —There is an unaffected ease in your 
manner at this moment — 

Lady Falkland. — You are very kind — 

Madame Beaumonde. — ^A gaiety free from all constraint or 
embarrassment — 

Sir Frederick. — As for me, I was never more at ease in 
my life. 

Lady Falkland. — And for my part (sighing) I am very 
happy ! Adieu, Madame Beaumonde! Good bye, Frederick ! 
(Exit almost in tears.) 

Sir Frederick (aside and abstractedly). — Why do I 
give way to this affectation of indifference? Why not ex- 
plain myself to Carohne at once? But then her coldness — 
her want of feeling! (While he stands with his arms folded^ 
lost in thought, Madame Beaumonde sits down to a sort of 
toilette-table that is in the room.) 

Madame Beaumonde. — This cheek wants a httle more 
colour. 

Sir Frederick (to himself). — I begin to see it but too 
plainly. 

Madame Beaumonde. You do ! — (aside) — more frank than 
pohte — (aloud) — why, then, I'll put a little more on. 

Sir Frederick (still in reverie). — It must be genuine — 

Madame Beaumonde. — I'm afraid not — but it's the best I 
could get in London. 

Sir Frederick (as before). — Her indifference is but too 
obvious. 

Madame Beaumonde. — Eh? — ha! ha! ha! Sir Frederick 
in a reverie ! 

Sir Frederick. — I beg pardon, Madame Beaumonde. It is 
indeed time to take my leave, when I forget in her presence a per- 
son of whom it is so difficult to cease thinking even in absence. 



28 MAERIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

Madame Beaumonde. — Ah — very prettily turned. Adieu 1 
(Exit Sir Frederick Falexand.) I see how it is. The 
only fault o± this charming couple is that they are too fond of 
one another. And that serpent, Belton, is trying to creep 
into the Paradise of their love, and bhght its fairest flower, 
their mutual confidence. It shall go hard but I'll defeat his 
base designs. But how? how? ^Vliy, am I not a woman, a 
Parisian, and a widow to boot ! And shall I be foiled — and in 
a good cause too — by a denizen of the foggy atmosphere of 
Mayfair? Forbid it the bright skies and the brighter wit of 
the dear Fauboiirg St Honore ! (Exit?) 

SCENE changes to an anteroom in the house 0/ Sir Frederick 

Falkland. Frank and Lucy enter in opposite directions, 

Frank. — Good morning to you, Mistress Lucy ; have you 
seen anything of my governor to-day? 

Lucy. — Not in person — ^but in print I have. 

Frank. — Oh — then you've heard of our little fi:oHc? 

Lucy. — Yes — one of the Sunday papers was good enough to 
inform me, in a very abusive paragraph, that a certain dash- 
ing young leader of fashion, whose name they write Mr 
W seven stars E, was the principal in a disgraceful riot at 
the Opera on Saturday night. What scandalous Hberties the 
papers do take with people of fashion ! 

Frank. — Yes — they speak almost as freely of them as we do 
who serve them! 

Lucy. — And you are now going to the editor, I suppose, to 
get the statement contradicted. 

Frank. — Contradicted? Why I put it in myself — ^my gover- 
nor wrote it. 

Lucy. — Wrote it? WeU — this is a new refinement in satire 
— for a gentleman to abuse himself. 

Frank. — Yes — ^but public notice, you know, is absolutely 
necessary to a young gentleman in a certain station of Hfe, and 
if the world are so much engaged with their own follies as not 



MlKKIAaE IN MAY FAIR. 29 

to observe his, the only resource left him is to force himself 
upon their attention. It is true everybody can make them- 
selves ridiculous, but everybody can't afford, as we can, to have 
our absurdities placarded in the newspapers. 

Lucy. — But I thought the town was so good-natured as 
seldom to refuse its attention to a person so persevering in 
absurdity as Mr Wildgoose. 

Frank. — ^Why, they may give him a passing glance, perhaps 
— ^but they can afford him no more — ^he has so many rivals. 

Lucy. — And pray what kind of new absurdity has Mr 
Wildgoose indulged in lately? 

Frank. — Every kind, in turn, my dear. Singularity in dress 
was his hobby for some time. He used to keep a private tailor 
all to himself (as our great lords keep a family parson and phy- 
sician) to invent new fashions for him that he thought nobody 
would be fools enough to follow. But the young " gents" east 
of Temple Bar soon taught him that this was trouble and 
expense thrown away — for dress himself as ridiculously as he 
could one week, they were sure to outdo him in absurdity the 
next ; so now he dresses like a gentleman — that being the only 
style that defies vulgar imitation. 

Lucy. — Well — and what was his next fancy? 

Frank. — ^Why, equipages and horses were next the order of 
the day with him. In the course of one twelvemonth he set 
up and overturned every species of vehicle that ever ran upon 
wheels, — ^from the lordly four-in-hand of the Whip-club to the 
lowly donkey-cart of the costermonger : as the song says — 

" Phaeton, whisky, buggy, dogcart, 
Curricle and tandem — " 

each and all took their turn in his favour. But after having 
half a score of lawsuits to settle for mutilating stray children 
and exterminating superfluous old ladies (not to mention crack- 
ing half his own ribs, and putting out my collar-bone), he got 



30 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

tired of charioteering, and took to a more intellectual line of 
amusement. 

Lucy. — Intellectual ! If " the march of intellect" is reaching 
our young men of fashion, it is time for you and I to look 
about us, Mister Frank. One would not, you know, like to 
disgrace the honourable caUings of gentleman's gentleman and 
lady's own woman by knowing no more than our employers. 
But, Mr Wildgoose — his absurdities amuse me. What receipt 
for notoriety did he resort to next ? 

Frank. — ^Why, he imbibed a violent passion for the Green 
Room, and, as the most striking thing he could do in that Hue, 
he offered, in turn, to marry half-a-dozen handsome actresses. 
But, as he isn't a lord, they one and all turned up their noses 
at him. 

Lucy (bridling affectedly). — He might have looked a little 
higher than actresses, I think. 

Frank. — At present he has an idea of turning his attention 
to pohtics and legislation, those being now the pet follies and 
vices of the day ; and, as a preliminary step, he has just~pur- 
chased a seat in the Reformed Parhament ! But, as he has not 
yet attained confidence enough to make himself ridiculous as a 
pubHc speaker in the House (for Mr Wildgoose, you must 
know, Lucy, is a modest man), he keeps himself and his 
fashionable friends from going to sleep there by crowing like 
a cock, barking like a dog, braying like a donkey, and making- 
sundry other instructive noises, "copied from nature," as the 
artists say. And as he has several rivals there in this new 
accomphshment in natural history, the House of Commons 
promises soon to become as entertaining and instructive a 
place of resort as the Zoological Gardens. 

Lucy. — Ah — 'twill never equal that I The cage of monkeys 
alone will beat it hollow any day. 

Frank. — But, after all, Mr Wildgoose finds there's no- 
thing so popular in the great world as profligacy and dissipa- 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 31 

tion. In those he's sure to find a resource when all others 
fail. Though, to do him justice, he affects more than he prac- 
tises of them. He has too good a heart to hurt any body but 
himself. But pray don't say I said so — it might be the ruin of 
me if it'came to his ears — (a knocking heard) — hark ! that's his 
knock. 

Lucy. — What ! — do you expect him here ? 

Frank. — Yes — he's coming to hear what your ladies say of 
our adventure of Saturday night. He's in great hopes they'll 
forbid him the house, as too wild a person to be safely admitted 
into female society. He sent me before him to relate his 
adventure in the servants' hall. 

Lucy. — In order that the whole house might be ready to 
abuse him on his arrival ! 

Frank. — Exactly so. Do you know, it's more than my place 
is worth to give him a good character ! 

Lucy (ironically). — Your's must be a very hard case, indeed, 
for a fashionable servant. Mister Frank ; for you know we 
make it a point of conscience never to speak ill of our 
employers ! {Exit?) 

Enter WiLDGrOOSE, preceded hy a Servant — throws himself 

into a chair. 
Servant. — ^I'U teU Sir Frederick you are here, sir. {Exit 
Servant.) 

Wildgoose. — I'm certainly the unluckiest dog alive. Do 
what I will, nobody seems to notice me. The absurdities I've 
practised within the last three months would have made the 
reputation of half-a-score men of ordinary luck ; but in me no- 
body takes any notice of them. I verily beheve, if I were to 
commit high treason, and be beheaded for it on Tower Hill, 
something or other would happen to prevent anybody from 
coming to witness the ceremony. As for Pirouette, I'll turn 



32 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

her off immediately. A pretty joke, indeed ! to keep a crack 
Opera dancer for months, and nobody to know it I 

Frank. — Very hard, indeed, sir — ^but — 

WiLDGOOSE. — Hard ! Why, I was told to my face just 
now, at Crockey's, that she's Lord Spindle's ! And by 
Rattlem and Dicely, too — fellows that I counted among my 
particular friends, for they've pocketed hundreds of my 
money. And when I told them that she belonged to me, they 
rang for the waiter, and asked him, in a loud whisper, who 
I was ! 

Frank. — Provoking, really, sir I But he told them, and 
now they'll tell all the town. 

WiLDGOOSE. — No — I overheard the rascal say that the gen- 
tleman came there often, bu.t that he had quite forgotten his 
name. Then, to complete my mortification, this is the tenth 
house I've called at this morning on purpose to hear the story 
of Saturday night, and nobody's at home. I can't meet with 
any body to give me news of myself — they've all gone out on 
purpose to vex me, I beheve. But the newspaper man, Frank ? 

Frank. — Yes, sir — ^he has done all you could wish — and the 
paragraph reads capitally — there's abuse enough in it to ruin 
any reasonable reputation. 

WiLDGOOSE. — But are you sure it's quite personal enough, 
Frank? 

Frank. — Lord, sir ! It's so scurrilous that the editor 
wouldn't insert it till I showed him a copy in your own 
handwriting. 

WiLDGOOSE. — It's of no use — nobody reads the papers when 
my name's in them. Frank, I think if you had given the 
fellow an extra guinea or two he might have pretended an 
error of the press, and slipped the paragraph into a column of 
the parliamentary debates. It would have been so conspicuous 
there — so novel — 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 33 

Prank. — Novel, indeed, sir I One never hears now-a-days 
of such a thing as personal abuse among parliamentary 
debates ! 

WiLDGOOSE.— Well — I'll give Pirouette her dismissal, how- 
ever; that'll make a noise, at any rate. 

Frank. — But perhaps. Sir, as getting, rid of an expensive 
mistress is anything but an absurdity, the story will tell too 
much to your advantage for anybody to repeat it. 

WiLDGOOSE. — That's true enough! But no — as it's the 
only story to my advantage that anybody ever had to tell, the 
singularity will be sure to make me talked of. 

Enter Servant. 

Servant. — Sir Frederick will be glad to see you in the 
library, Sir — this way if you please. (Exeunt Wildgoose and 
Servant.) 

Frank. — Well — ^now all I have to do is to go into the 
servant's hall, and talk of my master's profligacy and dissi- 
pation. How easily and honestly might most of the servants 
of young men of fashion earn their wages if, like me, that was 
the chief point of their duty. (Eicit) 

SCENE changes to Lady Falkland's drawing-room. Enter 
Lady Falkland and Lucy. 

Lady Falkland. — If Sir Frederick should inquire for me, 
tell him that — that I am not well — that I see nobody. (Exit 
Lucy.) Sir Frederick's behaviour is beyond endurance. Can 
this insensible husband be the man who but six months ago so 
loved, so idolized me? — who lived only in my presence? How 
I detest him ! — Yet what would I not give to see him at my 
feet at this moment. 



34 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

Enter Servant 
Servant. — Mr Belton, my lady. 

Lady Falkland.— Mr Belton! I'm not at home— I'm 
not well — ^I'm — 

Enter Belton. 

Belton. — Lady Falkland alone? Do you not expect to 
be reproaclied with your solitude as a crime to society — you, 
who are formed no less for its adornment than its admiration? 
Lady Falkland {jpointedly). — I owe but little to society, 
Mr Belton, if it is to prevent me from being mistress of myself. 
There are times, sir, when one desires to be alone. 

Belton. — ^Assuredly — there are moments when the mind, 
wearied with the glare and glitter of worldly objects, closes to 
the senseless sound of trifles, and retires within itself, to its own 
day-dreams of bhss or sorrow. {Aside) A pretty sentimental 
flourish, that — quite in her own way. 

Lady Falkland. — Surely Mr Belton does not speak from 
experience. Trifles can never displease 7«'m, while they fur- 
nish his satirical temper with themes of amusement. While he 
can entertain his friends so agreeably by ridiculing the follies 
and failings of their acquaintance, he can find no inducement 
to sohtafy self-contemplation. 

Belton. — Alas, Lady Falkland, rapt in contemplating the 
bright object of my adoration, my soul is insensible to every 
other idea. But whither will my presumption lead me ! 

Lady Falkland. — These flights of fancy are far too sub- 
lime for my comprehension, Mr Belton. 

Belton. — Ah — Lady Falkland — ^you will not comprehend, 
and I dare not explain — ^your frowns command my silence — 
but let this suppHant posture {Jie kneels). 

Sir Frederick Falkland (without). — Where is Lady 
Falkland? — In the drawing room, do you say? 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 35 

Lady Falkland (aside). — Heavens ! Sir Frederick ! But 
stay — may not this new insult be used as a means to rouse his 
jealousy? 

Belton (aside). — 'Tis lie, faith ! — (rises) — what the devil 
shall I do? — stay — oh — I have it ! — (he again kneels.) 

Sir Frederick ente^^s — starts back with surprise. 

Belton (rises). — Ah, Falkland — how are you? 

Sir Frederick (embarrassed). — Belton — I — I'm glad to 
see you — I — 

Lady Falkland (aside). — He's angry, that's clear — and I 
may still hope. 

Belton (aside to Sir Frederick). — Are you sure you're 
glad to see me? Have you no scruples — no suspicions? 
Come, confess honestly you have lost your bet. The britzka 
and bays are mine, eh? I see that I've made you jealous, and 
I'll proceed no further. 

Sir Frederick. — Nonsense ! I'd forgotten. (Aside.) He'U 
tell this story everywhere, and my insensible wife herself will 
join in the laugh against me. 

Belton (aside to Sir Frederick). — Nay — either you or I 
must quit the field. If I go, I go in triumph. 

Sir Frederick. — But who the devil wants you to go? 

Belton. — Then i/ou must go — and immediately too. 

Sir Frederick. — ^Well, but — 

Lady Falkland. — Sir Frederick, do you dine at home? 

Sir Frederick. — ^Lady Falkland — I— no — that is — (go- 



Lady Falkland (aside). — Good heavens! Is he going to 
leave me with this man after what he has seen? (To him.) 
You are not going out again, Frederick? 

Belton {aside to him). — Instantly! You haven't a mo- 
ment to spare, you know. 

Sir Frederick. — Instantly, my love — I haven't a moment 



36 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

to spare — have I, Belton? Adieu, my dear — good bye, 
Belton. 

Belton. — Well, if we must lose you — (Exit Sir Fre- 
derick.) 

Lady Falkland (aside — m astonishment). — He's actually 
gone! 

Re-enter Sir Frederick. 

Sir Frederick. — One tMng I forgot, Belton — Lady Falk- 
land has told me you have long wished for her picture. 

Belton (aside). — The devil she has ! 

Sir Frederick. — And she means to present you with it — 
I shall give orders to have it reset. 

Lady Falkland (aside). — Good heavens! Is he serious? 

Belton. — Lady Falkland, I want words to express my 
gratitude. 

Sir Frederick (aside). — The devil's in it if he can sus- 
pect me of jealousy now — or she either. (Going to take a 
chair.) I'll tell you how it happened. 

Belton. — But you forget your engagement. (Aside to 
him.) Recollect the britzka and bays. 

Sir Frederick (embarrassed). — Oh — ay — well, Belton, I 
shall send you the picture. Adieu, Caroline. (Aside.) Sdeath ! 
She'll drive me mad with her indifference. (Exit.) 

Lady Falkland (aside). — This is too much — shghted thus 
openly ! — ^in the presence of the man who has insulted me I 
Dehcacy, by your leave ! I'll try how I can assume the cha- 
racter which my heartless husband seems determined to force 
upon me. 

Belton. — Can I credit my senses ? Am I indeed to have 
the exquisite happiness of possessing the image of Lady Falk- 
land? Am I permitted to press her charming semblance to 
my lips — to — 

Lady Falkland. — You have heard what my husband 



I 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 37 

said. You will dine with us, Mr Belton. Good morning. 
{Exit) 

Belton. — Exquisite creature! She's mine at last! Poor 
Falkland! He has yet to learn that the surest support of 
a married woman's tottering virtue is the outward evidence 
of her husband's affection. If men would but employ a tithe 
of the assiduity to keep their wives that they do to win them, 
married life would cease to be the jest of the rest of the world, 
and become its envy. 

Enter WiLDGOOSE, preceded hy a Servant. 

Servant. — I thought my lady was here, sir. I'll inquire if 
she's gone out. (Exit) 

WiLDGOOSE (aside). — Belton here? I'll tell him about 
Pirouette. {Aloud) Well, Belton! — ^I've made up my mind 
— ^I've been duped long enough — I've done with her — you've 
heard the whole story, I suppose. 

Belton {to himself — musingly). — Charming creature ! She'll 
certainly be mine. 

WiLDGOOSE. — ^With all my heart — ^but you'll find her 
cursedly expensive, I can tell you. 

Belton {still to himself). — But how to blind Falkland long 
enough to give me time? 

WiLDGOOSE. — Why what the deuce has Falkland to do with 
her? I know it will make a famous noise. But I've been a 
fool long enough. 

Belton (to him — then first observing him). — Very true, 
Wildgoose ! {Aside.) He'll be asking me for that cursed two 
hundred I lost to him the other night. I must put him off it 
somehow. {To him) What's that you were talking about, 
Wildgoose? 

WiLDGOOSE. — Why, what all the town will be talkingabout 
to-morrow — Pirouette, the opera-girl — you know of my Httle 
arrangement with her. 



38 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

Belton. — ^Not I. {He considers). 

WiLDGOOSE. — There ! I said nobody knew it. 

BETLON"(asz(ie, mwsm^). — Ay — that'll do. {To him,.) Harkye, 
Wildgoose — you say you've turned off Pirouette. But you 
know a mistress or two is as necessary now-a-days to a man of 
fashion as a stud at Melton. Now suppose I were to introduce 
you to a young person — sl friend of mine. 

Wildgoose. — My dear fellow, I'm excessively obliged to 
you. (Aside.) A mistress of his would be the making of me. 
(To Jiim.) But when did you part with her? 

Belton. — Part with her? I've never seen her yet. 

Wildgoose. — I'm sorry for that — your name would have 
given her so much eclat. 

BeltoN". — Oh — as to that — when I've leisure I'U take notice 
of her for you — ^but just at present I'm in pursuit of higher 
game. But this girl — such a creature ! — at least, I'm told so. 
But does'nt this proof of my friendship deserve — 

Wildgoose. — Anything you can ask — except my sky-blue 
cab with scarlet wheels, and the spotted mare I bought of 
Ducrow — I would'nt part with them for a wilderness of women 
— everybody stares at them so. 

Belton. — Well — I think I lost a couple of hundreds to you 
at Crockford's the other night — 

Wildgoose. — Wliich you may pay me when you find it 
convenient — a pretty long date that — eh Belton? 

Belton. — ^Well, on that condition — in three words, then 
(for I'm in great haste), I've just received a note from a con- 
venient friend of mine, Mrs Lamode, a French milliner, who 
supplies me with anything in her line that I happen to want — 
you understand? Well, she tells me she has the loveHest 
little thing— just up from the country. The girl is to be at 
my lodgings in an hour's time with some lace veils — ^you un- 
derstand ? 

Wildgoose.- — Lace veils?— Oh— ay — I see— well? 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR, 39 

Belton". — Well— you shall be there to supply my place. 

(Aside.) And I'll take the earliest opportunity of returning 

the obligation. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Upon my life, Belton, this is very kind of you, 
Belton. — Well — it's a bargain, then — is it? Remember 

to be at my lodgings in an hour, and dont remember the two 

hundred till I remind you of it ! (Ea;it Belton.) 

Enter Servant at the opposite side, followed by Emma 
Belton. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Eh — who have we here? 

Servant. — Her ladyship will see you presently, ma'am. 
{Exit Servant.) 

WiLDGOOSE. — Fine girl, by Jove ! {To her.) Ma'am, your 
most obedient. {Aside.) I wonder if she knows me. What 
shall I say to her? — She's devilish handsome. {To her.) A 
cold day, ma'am. 

Emma Belton. — Yes, sir. 

WiLDGOOSE {aside). — Hem! — a full stop. {To her.) The 
frost seems likely to continue, ma'am. 

Emma Belton. — ^Yes, sir. 

WiLDGOOSE {aside). — Yes, sir ! She seems as if she 
couldn't say "No" to anything. {To her.) The Opera full on 
Saturday, ma'am? 

Emma Belton. — I don't know really, sir. I do not go 
there. 

WiLDGOOSE {aside). — Deuced silly — ^but what eyes! {To 
her.) Pray, ma'am, do you ever read the newspapers? 

Emma Belton. — Sometimes, sir. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Did you take notice of the account they 
gave yesterday of a riot at the Opera? 

Emma Belton. — Yes, sir. A young gentleman of fashion 
was treated very severely in the paragraph. 



40 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

WiLDGOOSE. — -Yes — a Mr Wildgoose. Do you know any- 
thing of this Wildgoose, ma'am? 

Emma Belton. — I have heard him spoken of as a very 
singular young gentleman, sir — ^very eccentric, is he not? 
Always doing something odd ? 

Wildgoose. — Upon my soul, she's a sensible girl. 

Emma Belton. — I beheve, sir, he drives a remarkable 
cabriolet about town. 

Wildgoose. — ^Yes, ma'am. Did you ever hear anything 
particular about him? — Sad dog, isn't he? 

Emma Belton. — I've heard that he's very wild, sir. 

Wildgoose. — Upon my life, she has a great deal of wit. 

Enter Lady Falkland and Louisa. 

Wildgoose. — Good morning, ladies. You'll die of laugh- 
ing — such an adventure ! 

Louisa. — You are always meeting with adventures, Mr 
Wildgoose. 

Wildgoose. — This young lady has been giving me an 
account of myself, and not a very flattering one. I didn't 
know till to-day that I bore so bad a character. 

Lady Falkland. — ^A bad character! Really, Mr Wild- 
goose, I have always heard you spoken of as a person of an 
excellent heart. 

Wildgoose (aside). — Excellent heart ! She hasn't half the 
wit of little modesty there. (Aloud.) Well, Lady Falkland, I 
hope this young lady will not alter your opinion. But you are 
engaged, ladies — I'll take my leave. (Apart to Emma.) If 
they ask you anytliing about the row at the Opera the other 
night, don't spare me. (Aside?) She's deuced handsome — I 
should like to know who she is. (Exit) 

Lady Falkland. — Has Mrs Lamode sent my bill as I de- 
sired? 



MAERIAGE IN MAY FAIR, 41 

Emma Belton {opening her reticule^ and giving one of two 
letters). — Yes, my lady, here it is. 

Lady Falkland. — This is not for me — ^this letter is ad- 
dressed to Mr Belton. 

Emma Belton {confused). — To Mr Belton? Oh— I beg 
your ladyship's pardon — this is for your ladyship {offering the 
other). 

Lady Falkland. — Stay, child — do you know Mr Belton? 

Emma Belton {embarrassed). — He — I — ^he is acquainted 
with Mrs Lamode, my lady — a customer, I believe. 

Lady Falkland {aside). — A customer! {To her). But 
do you know him. 

Emma Belton. — I — ^I am — ^but just come from the country, 
Madam, and — 

Lady Falkland. — You don't answer my question, child — 
you tremble. {Aside to Louisa.) Louisa, there's something 
wrong here. 

Louisa {aside to Lady Falkland). — She seems to be 
innocence itself — I am quite interested for her. {To Emma.) 
My good girl, why were you fixed upon to deliver this letter 
to Mr Belton? 

Emma Belton. — ^I don't know. Madam. I was told to 
deliver it into his own hands. Pray be pleased to return it 
to me. 

Lady Falkland. — I have a great mind to open the letter, 
Louisa. 

Emma Belton, — ^Not for the world, my dear lady I If you 
open it I shall be ruined. 

Lady Falkland. — If I do not^ my dear, I fear you may. 
{To Louisa.) She must be innocent — yet her evident anxiety. 
Whatever may be the consequence, I'll open it. {She opens 
and reads.) Heavens! read this! {To Louisa.) 'Tis as I 
supposed. That wretch Lamode ! 



42 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

Louisa (looking at the Ze^^er').— Detestable creature! 

Lady Falkland. — Well, my dear, this letter convinces me 
that you are ignorant of its contents. You must not think of 
going to Mr Belton's. 

Emma Belton. — Indeed I must, my lady. He is — he is — 

Louisa. — Well — proceed. 

Emma Belton. — He is — oh — you are both so good, I'm 
sure I may trust you — ^you will not betray me — Mr Belton is 
- — my brother. 

Lady Falkland.— Your brother! 

Emma Belton. — My story is short, Madam. My father, 
who was a clergyman in Devonshire, after spending his little 
property to educate and support my brother, died, and left my 
mother and myself in indigent circumstances. {She weeps?) 

Lady Falkland. — Compose yourself, my sweet girl. 

Emma Belton. — I came up to town in the hope of being 
able to support my mother by my industry, and as repeated 
letters to my brother had never excited even sympathy with 
our distress, I gladly embraced this opportunity (offered to me 
so unexpectedly by Mrs Lamode) to try what powers of per- 
suasion my tears might have with him. 

Lady Falkland. — I must speak with you on this letter, 
my sweet young friend. As for your brother — 

Enter Servant. 

Servant. — Mr Belton, my lady. 

Emma Belton. — Oh, madam, if I see him here I shall sink 
with terror — let me retire. 

Enter Belton. 

Louisa (to Emma). — Hush!— put your handkerchief to 
your face, and leave the rest to Lady Falkland and me. 



MAREIAGE IN MAT FAIR. 43 

BELTON.—Lady Falkland, I — but I fear I intrude — you are 
engaged. 

Louisa.- — No, indeed — here are none but friends, Mr Belton. 
That is a young lady to whom my sister has lately attached 
herself. She is so unfortunate as to be thrown upon the world 
by a near relative — a brother— from whom she had a right to 
expect everything, 

Belton {aside).— A brother! {Aloud.) Indeed! Poor 
young woman! I am interested for her. (Aside,) I must 
take the tone of the company, I see — all soul and sentiment. 

Lady Falkland.— I knew you would pity her, Mr Belton 
— every man who, like yourself, is a brother, must feel — 
Belton. — A brother, madam? I — 

Lady Falkland. — ^Yes— a person lately from Devonshire 
informed me that you have a sister — 

Belton {aside). — From Devonshhe? — A sister? What can 
she mean? — (looking furtively at Emma — then aloud) — Oh 
dear no — I never had either sister or brother — I have not a 
single relative living. 

Lady Falkland. — Indeed! And yet the person I allude 
to seemed well acquainted with, your name. 

Belton. — Oh — now I recollect, I have heard of some per- 
sons of my name in Devonshire — but they are of another 
family. 

Lady Falkland. — You are acquainted with them, then? 
Belton (again loohing with curiosity towards Emma). — No 
— I may have seen them, but I don't suppose I should know 
any of them if I were in the same room with them. 

Lady Falklaj^d. — Perhaps not — especially as they try to 
conceal themselves from notice. ( To Emma.) Come, my dear 
— I wish to have some conversation with you. {To Belton.) 
I shall leave my sister to entertain you till dinner. {Exeunt 
Lady Falkland a7id Emma.) 



44 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

Louisa. — ^What a task has Lady Falkland imposed on me, 
Mr Belton I I must positively do for once what you wits 
accuse us poor women of doing always — invoke the assist- 
ance of Art. Sir Frederick has just bought some fine pictures 
which you have not yet seen. Come — we shall just have time 
to look at them before dinner — (aside) — and then I'll prepare 
a dessert for you that you little dream of (^Exeunt) 



END OF ACT II. 



MARBIACtE IN MAT FAIB. 45 



ACT III. 

SCENE — Wildgoose's house. Wildgoose and Frank. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Yes, yes — it's plain enougli — Belton has 
been hoaxing me about this girl from the country — she never 
came near the place. Not that I care much about it. The 
truth is, I don't see any ftm in making a poor girl miserable 
for life merely by way of amusing oneself. But one must do 
as other people do. 

Frank. — But, sir, as you have come to the resolution of 
being ruined yourself in such a hurry, you would scarcely have 
had leisure to ruin the young lady. 

\^ Wildgoose. — Why, Frank, I find ruination is the only 
short road to notoriety now-a-days. It's quite disreputable for 
a young fellow like me to Hve within his income. If I pay 
my debts much longer I shan't have a fashionable friend left. 

Frank (aside). — And so, while half the town are spending 
other people's money to appear rich, we are to squander our 
own in trying to be thought poor! 

Wildgoose. — It's deuced unlucky that I've been so punc- 
tual in paying my bills. 

Frank. — Oh — that won't signify much, sir. People will 
say you did it to get double credit. I call'd upon Truefit, your 
tailor, this morning, sir. 

Wildgoose. — Oh — hang that fellow! he's servility per- 



46 MAERIAGE IN MAY FAIK. 

sonified. If a customer were to kick him, he'd turn round and 
bow to him for the comphment. I suppose he persisted in 
having had no time to make out his bill. 

Frank. — Ah, sir — ^that was while he thought you wanted 
to pay it. But the moment I told him you hoped he'd put it 
off for another year or two he swore he'd proceed for it 
directly. And I'm in great hopes he'll have you arrested this 
very day. 

WiLDGOOSE. — That's all right. But I hear voices below — 
who is it, Frank? 

Frank. — Mr Issachar, sir, the dandy Jew money-lender, 
that you told me to send for to help you to ruin yourself. He's 
giving his list of messages to his man, as usual, to let people 
know what a world of business and pleasure he has to get 
through at the same moment. 

Enter IssachA-R in a dandy dress. Exit Frank. 

Issachar (speakiyig to one without^ as he enters^ — And Shi- 
mon — tell Sir Thomas Try-it-on I shall vait on him vit de 
needfiil in de afternoon. Mr Wildgoose, I'm rejoished to see 
you — and Shimon — give my respects to Lady Bloomsbury, and 
I shall be delighted to attend her ladyship to the Opera this 
evening — I ask pardon, Mr Wildgoose — and Shimon — send 
Nathan to the City for dat polishy — and dat's all — stay — 
Shimon — and call in Tavishtock street for my new masquerade 
dress — and — Shimon — be sure to be back here vit a cab in 
half an hour. Now I am at your shervice, Mr "Wildgoose. 

Wildgoose. — Why, Issachar, how the deuce do you con- 
trive to keep up the two opposite characters, of a man of busi- 
ness and a man of pleasure at the same time? Either of those 
pursuits is generally quite enough of itself fully to occupy one 
of us ordinary mortals. 

Issachar. — Oh Mr Wildgoose, you flattersh me ! But it's 
de vay vit all my fashionable friends. I am such a favorite 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 47 

vit peoples of quality dat I often gets ten per slient more on 
vat I lends, for doing dem de favor to help dem spend it. 

WiLDGOOSE. — How kind of you! But you've always an 
eye to business. 

IssACHAR. — Yes — always has an eye to bishness. Talking 
of bisbness, I hope you vants some ready money, Mr Wild- 
goose, to carry out this ruination plan that Mr Frank tells 
me of. Not that I comprehends a young gentleman vanting 
to be ruined before his time. But if you vants a tousand or 
two, I'll write you a check for it directly. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Not at present, Issachar, but perhaps I may 
shortly. 

Issachar. — De shooner de better — I knows your estate is 
goot — 

WiLDGOOSE. — But I hope you don't tell any body so ? 

Issachar. — ^No, no — I shake's my head and cries, " very 
pat!" 

WiLDGOOSE. — That's good. 

Issachar. — Dat you are so disshipated — so extravagant. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Thank you, my good friend. 

Issachar. — Dat I wouldn't trust you vit a shilling. 

WiLDGOOSE. — I am under the greatest obligations to you. 

Issachar. — In short, I swears dat you're regularly done up. 

WiLDGOOSE. — You make me quite happy, I declare — but 
are you sure people believe you? 

Issachar. — Oh, yesh — ven vonce I say it's all up vit a 
man, nobody doubts it. 

Enter Frank. 

Frank. — Sir, here's your steward, Mr Trusty, come to pay 
you some rents. I hear him hobbling up stairs. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Zounds! what shall I do? K the old fellow 
meets Issachar here, I shall be ruined ! 

Issachar. — Veil, and ishn't dat vat you vants? 



48 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

WiLDGOOSE. — But I mean I shall be ruined in reality. 
The old fool will tell my uncle, and you know the surest 
recommendation to a place in a miser's will is, that you are 
not in want of money. 

IssACHAR. — True as an oracle, Mr Wildgoose. 

WiLDGOOSE. — You see my situation, Issachar. So just step 
into the next room for a few minutes, will you? Trusty's 
such a regular, particular, punctual, honest old scoundrel! — 
whilst that fellow manages my affairs I couldn't ruin myself if 
I tried ever so ! 

Issachar (aside). — Oh, the old villain! — my blood rishes 
at him ! 

Wildgoose. — I am really quite distressed that the old 
fellow should bring me my rents just at this moment. 

Issachar. — Your distresh is of a mighty shingular nature, 
Mr Wildgoose — it vera sheldom happens at houses vere I 
visits ! (£Ja;it Issachar at a room-door.) 

Enter Trusty. 

Wildgoose. — Well, Trusty — ^you're welcome to town, my 
old friend. 

Trusty.-"— Ah ! sir — I believe you — I dare say I am wel- 
come — (archly taking out a bag of money and showing it.) I 
called upon your honour at eight o'clock this morning, think- 
ing to find you up, but they told me you were only just gone 
to bed. 

Wildgoose. — ^Why, yes, Trusty — ^business of a particular 
nature detained me — 

Trusty. — Business of a very particular nature indeed, I 
should think, to keep you up all night ! Your poor dear 
father, sir — ^but I beg pardon. Ah — here are some of his 
remains, sir — {pointing to the hag.) Poor gentleman ! it 
grieved him to leave them behind him. You'll find the mo- 
ney right, I believe, sir. 



MARRIAGR IN MAY FAIR. 49 

WiLDGOOSE. — No doubt. And how does my good uncle, eh 
Trusty? 

Trusty. — Quite hearty, sir. There's only one thing that 
troubles the old gentleman — he's sadly afraid you don't keep 
good company, sir. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Give my duty to him. Master Trusty, and 
assure him I keep the best company in town. 

Trusty. — I will, sir, I will. But you can't wonder at your 
uncle's fears, sir. This London is such a profligate place ! I 
dare say your honour knows it to be so. 

WiLDGOOSE. — I do, indeed. Trusty. But as to the friends 
I associate with, they are a set of men so exemplary in their 
conduct — 

Trusty. — Men of business, I suppose, who mind the main 
chance. 

WiLDGOOSE. — ^Mind the main chance? Yes — ^many of them, 
so anxious about the " main chance" that they are at it early 
and late — all night long sometimes. 

Trusty. — Lackaday — that must be very fatiguing. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Oh — ^they find a pleasure in it — such young 
men ! — quite models, I assure you, Trusty. 

Enter Frank. 

Frank. — Sir Harry Headlong, sir. 

WiLDGOOSE (aside to Frank). — Confusion! Why the devil 
did you let him in? 

Frank. — Some people in the hall told him you were at 
home, sir. He's talking with them now. Bailiffs, I think, sir. 

Trusty. — Is this gentleman one of the models your honour 
spoke of? 

WiLDGOOSE. — Why, I think I shall make him one soon. 
To say the truth, Trusty, he's a little wild at present. But I 
hope I shall reclaim him. You must know I had appointed 



50 MAREIAGE IN MAY FAIE. 

him to come here to-day on purpose that I might give him a 
lecture. 

Trusty.™ And yet your honour did not seem to wigh him 
to come in. 

WiLDGOOSE.— Why, I'm sorry, as you happen to he here, 
Trusty, 

Trusty.-— Oh I never mind me, sir— I'll give him a lecture 
myself, if you like. 

WiLDGOOSE. — -By no means, Trusty. One must observe a 
little deHcacy in these things, you know. Suppose you were 
to step into the next room. I'll soon despatch him. (Trusty 
goes towards the room where Issachar is?) No— no— not 
there — the other room, good Trusty. 

Trusty. — Ali ! your honour — -I don't know much of the 
ways of your house. {Exit?) 

WiLDGOOSE. — No 1 I'm very glad you don't, honest Master 
Trusty. How cursed unlucky, Headlong coming just now!— 
he'll blow up my plans, to a certainty. 

Re-enter Trusty, 

Trusty. — I beg pardon, your honour, but you forgot to 
give me a receipt. I believe I have a stamp in my pocket- 
book {sitting down, and taking out his spectacles). 

WiLDGOOSE. — Zounds ! man — I'll give you a receipt by- 
and-bye. 

Trusty.— Well, your honour, I beg pardon — ^but one can't 
be too particular in business {puts the bag of money in his 
pocket J and exit). 

Enter Sir Harry Headlong. 

WiLDGOOSE {in a low tJO^ce).— Ah Headlong— I'm glad to 
see you. 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 51 

Sir Harry. — And I should be glad to hear you — why, 
what the devil — ^have you lost your voice? — a cold — eh? 

WiLDGOOSE. — In consequence of sitting in the draught of 
that closet door {pointing to where Trusty is). Come a little 
further this way, will you. — Well — where have you been for 
this week past, eh — Headlong? 

Sir Harry. — Been? — oh, in high feather, my old boy! No 
fellow enjoys life more than I do. Tell you what I've been up 
to this last week. Monday a lot of us — Fred. Frolick, Tom 
Scampley, Charley Challenge, and I forget who besides, started 
from Crockford's after dinner, in an omnibus and six, for 
Greenwich Fair. Capital fun— finished the night by kicking 
up a glorious row in Hichardson's booth. Frolick got three of 
his front teeth knocked out by the Ghost in Hamlet^ for trying 
to kiss his wife, "the chaste Ophelia." Such a capital set to I 
FroHck, you know, is a goodish hand with the gloves — but he 
had no chance with the Ghost ! 

WiLDGOOSE (aside). — Trusty will certainly hear him ; he's 
got a voice like a speaking-trumpet. (To him.) Well, but — 

Sir Harry. — Stop — ^I've not told you half yet. Tuesday I 
backed my housekeeper's tabby cat to run a mile on Black- 
heath against Ned Wildfire's pet monkey for a hundred — beat 
him hollow, though tabby carried weight — ^ha ! ha ! 

WiLDGOOSE. — Carried weight? How d'ye mean? 

Sir Harry. — ^Why her kitten in her mouth, all the way ! 
Wednesday — let's see — what was it on Wednesday? — oh — I 
remember — ^back'd myself for fifty to row Lord Funny's new 
wherry against Bill Bang of Hungerford, from Westminster to 
Vauxhall and back — and beat him by a length ! — ^ha ! ha ! ha ! 
his own length, by Jove! 

WiLDGOOSE. — His own length? 

Sir Harry. — Ay — just as he was beating me in a canter 
close by the Penitentiary, I managed to whip my right skull 



52 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

cleverly under Ms left arm, and canted him into the water as 
clean as a whistle. 

WiLDGOOSE. — The deuce! — and was he drowned? 

Sir Harry.— I don't know — I dare say he was — I forgot 
to ask. Isn't that life, old boy? — eh? 

WiLDGOOSE (aside), — It's of no use trying to stop him. (2b 
Mm?) Well — the rest of the week? 

Sir Harry. — Oh, let's see — ay — Thursday and Friday I 
drove the Age to Brighton and back — only two accidents and 
one overturn, both ways. Got among a drove of pigs that 
would get into the way — only killed three, maimed four, and 
broke the ofF-leader's knees — cost me fifty to pay the damages 
— never mind — nothing like it — eh? 

WiLDGOOSE. — ^Well, but my dear Headlong — 

Sir Harry. — Coming back, turned the coach smack into a 
river! No fault of mine! A fat farmer's wife flung herself 
^lump down before their heads — on purpose, I'll be sworn. 
No wonder the tits took fright! 

WiLDGOOSE. — And to close the week? — 

Sir Harry. — Oh ! — I finished the week as many people 
begin it — up in the clouds. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Up in the clouds! — ^how do you mean? 

Sir Harry. — Why, I gave Green twenty pounds to let me 
go up with him in his balloon. Didn't hke it much, though — 
so cursed quiet up in the clouds — nothing going on — no life — 
no spirit — no fun — as stupid as Harley street, or Edinburgh on 
a Sunday. Good sport on coming down, though — within an 
ace of breaking all our necks fi:om the top of an oak in Epping 
Forest. Got down safe, though, at last; slept al fresco 
with a gang of gipsies, and came up to town yesterday morn- 
ing as sound as a bell. Isn't that life, old boy? — eh? 

WiLDGOOSE (aside). — He'll never go. (To him.) I thought 
you were to be at the House to-day, to vote for Sir 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 53 

Simon Scamper's private enclosure bill — don't let me keep 
you— 

Sir Harry. — ^Why, I did promise kim, but I'll forget it, 
and stay with you. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Oh, I would not detain you from business 
for the world. 

Sir Harry. — Nonsense — never mind the House — I've got 
lots of things to say to you, Tom. I find you're ruined — 
{whistles). By-the-bye, when does that new four-in-hand you 
talked about make its appearance? But, damn it, I'm nothing 
of a morning without a glass of champagne. Order a bottle, 
will you? {Rings the hell, and sits down to a table. Enter 
Frank.) Bring us a bottle of champagne, Frank. 

WiLDGOOSE (aside). — "Worse and worse! The savage is 
set in for it. 

Enter Servant icith wine. 

Sir Harry. — Mortgaged pretty deep, I suppose? — over 
head and ears in annuities — eh? I saw Issachar's cab at your 
door as I came in, besides the bums. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Hush, my dear Headlong! do speak lower I 
I can't bear a noise — the cold I got from that closet door 
so affects my head ! 

Sir Harry. — Egad, I think your head is affected indeed! 
I never saw a fellow look so queer in my life. Why, you 
don't mind being ruined, do you? I was ruined before I came 
into my estate — dipped it a thousand a-year before I left col- 
lege. Come, Tom, " here's towards you," as our friends below 
stairs say. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Hush! hush! my dear Headlong! 

Sir Harry. — It's very well to say, "Hush!" to a capias, 
but it can't be done. Besides, who cares about an execution ? 
Why, I've had one in my place these three weeks. One of 



54 MARKIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

the fellows is a capital hand — plays tlie hurdy-gurdy on the 
tongs, twists the poker round liis neck, and can eat raw beef- 
steaks against any bulldog in Westminster. I declare I shall 
be quite sorry to part with him. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Come, you don't drink. (Aside.) What shall 
I do to get rid of him? 

Sir Harry. — But I say, Wildgoose, haven't you large ex- 
pectations from an old uncle? 

Wildgoose {speaUng loud, for Trusty to hear). — An 
uncle! — Yes, one of the best, the worthiest, the most respect- 
able — 

Sir Harry. — Halloo ! Why, you've recovered your voice 
all of a sudden. 

Wildgoose. — Come, a bumper to my excellent uncle's 
health. 

Sir Harry. — His ill health, you mean. Well, here's to 
his speedy dissolu — 

Wildgoose (stopping him). — Hold! that toast was to my 
good uncle's health — the next is to his and my faithful 
steward, honest Thomas Trusty. 

Sir Harry. — Why, you told me the other day that your 
steward was a snivelling, canting old rascal — 

Wildgoose (trying to silence him). — Really, Headlong — 

Sir Harry. — But I hope the old hunks means to die soon, 
Tom. You've no time to lose. I saw two bailiffs below — 
old friends of mine — in possession, I suppose. 

Eriter Trusty fro7n the closet. 

Trusty. — Bailiffs in possession ! Heaven defend us ! I 
believe Old Nick is in possession! These are yoiu- men of 
business, are they, Mr Wildgoose ! — your models ! — at it at all 
hours ! Your friend must have served an early apprenticeship, 
to begin business before he left school. 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR, 55 

WiLDGOOSE. — Distraction ! 

Sir Harry. — One of your duns, I suppose, Tom! Come, 
tKis is a new idea, a man locking up liis creditors in Ms own 
house. I wish I could serve mine so — ^but I'm afraid my 
apartments wouldn't hold half of 'em I 

Trusty. — ^Aye, aye, young gentleman, your uncle shall 
know of this. And you've the Jews about you too, have you? 
Ah I — Jews are like undertakers' mutes — when once you see 
them Sit a man's door, you may be sure it's all over with him. 
I hate the sight of a money-lending Jew. 



JEnter Issachar from the other closet 

IsSACHAR. — Mr Wildgoose, I' can't stay in de shame housh 
vit dat profligate old fellow — 

Sir Harry. — Halloo! What are we to have next, Tom? 
Dam' me, this is high fun! — this is life ! I like this. 

Wildgoose {aside to Issachar). — My dear Issachar, stay 
one moment — ^I may have occasion for you. 

Trusty. — I've only one question to ask you, young gentle- 
man, before I go — are you really quite ruined? 

Sir Harry. — ^Well, that's a plain question, I must say. 
Answer him, Tom, by all means, for the satisfaction of the 
company. 

Wildgoose (half aside). — ^Now, is it best for me to be 
ruined or not? — let me consider. 

Issachar. — Stuff! do it vidout consideration. 

Wildgoose (aside). — Yes — it shall be so, but I shall want 
your assistance, Issachar, to complete my ruin — you under- 
stand? 

Issachar. — Pray, make haste, sir, den, for I've two or tree 
oder gentlemans vaiting for me, as vants my assistance for de 
same purpose. Oh, dere is Shimon coming for me — I can't 



56 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

Stay a moment longer. ( To Trusty.) Oh, you old profligate I 
{Exit) 

WiLDGOOSE {to Trusty). — Well, my old friend, I'll answer 
your question — 

Trusty. — You may save yourself tlie trouble, sir — the 
Jew's words have answered me. Ah, your good father, my 
old master — 

Sir Harry. — Eh, Wildgoose, what's all this? — His old 
master — 

Wildgoose. — His old friend, he means. {Aside.) Sdeath ! 
I must bring myself off somehow — ^I have it! {To Sir 
Harry.) This, Sir Harry, is no less less a man than the 
Honourable Tom Trusty. 

Trusty. — ^Why, I beheve I deserve the title of " honour- 
able" as well as many who wear it; but as there is sometimes 
a distinction between an " honourable " and an '•'honest'" man, 
I am content to be called honest Thomas Trusty. 

Wildgoose. — Well, then, "honest" let it be. 

Sir Harry. — With all my heart. Honest Tom, here's t'ye. 
A keen sportsman, I suppose? 

Wildgoose. — At everything, from a stag to a badger — 
from foxes and hares to farmers' wives and daughters. 

Trusty. — Lord! Lord! 

Wildgoose. — His father died the other day at a himdred, 
and disinherited this young dog because he couldn't be con* 
tent with two mistresses. Bring more wine, Frank. 

Trusty. — Mercy on us ! Why, your honour — Mr Wild- 
goose — 

Sir Harry. — But how the devil did he come in the closet? 
And why in this dress? 

Wildgoose. — A sly dog ! You wouldn't think it, but he's 
disguised for an intrigue to-night. We got the costume from 
Tavistock street — 



MAEKIAGE IN MAY FAIE. 57 

Sir Harry. — From Monmouth street, I should think, by 
the look of it. 

WiLDGOOSE. — He's the life of a masquerade. Come, Trusty, 
don't hum us any longer, but drink, man, drink ! 

Sir Harry. — Aye, and give us a song — come ! 

Trusty. — I sing 1 Heaven bless us ! I — 

Enter Frank. 

Frank. — A carriage has stopped at the door, sir — I think 
it is Madame Beaumonde's. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Madame Beaumonde's ! {Aside) That's 
lucky — she'll tell all the town that I'm done up, and it'll be 
the making of me. 

Frank. — The lady and Mr Idleton are coming up, sir. 

Sir Harry. — Then I'll go down, and so your servant, 
gentlemen. I hate talking without drinking — one might as 
well be at the House of Cormnons. {Exit) 

Trusty. — ^Well, your honour, I believe I had better go, too. 
As I am such a profligate old fellow, I suppose you won't like 
to trust me with the lady. 

WiLDGOOSE. — ^My dear Trusty, I must explain all this to 
you. Don't leave the house till I see you. Besides, I want 
your advice. 

Trusty. — ^Ah, sir ! then it must be all over with you. I 
never knew a young man acknowledge that he wanted the ad- 
vice of an old one till his case was desperate. — [Exit) 

WiLDGOOSE. — Frank, a whim strikes me. I should like to 
know what people say of my supposed situation. I'll con- 
ceal myself in this closet. It has already exposed me to my 
friends — it now owes me the good turn of exposing my friends 
to me. TeU them I'm out. 'Gad ! 'tis not every man would 
take so much pains to hear of his faults. {Exit into the 
closet.) 



58 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

E7iter Madame Beaumonde and Idleton. 

Frank. — I am very sorry for tlie mistake of the servants, 
madam ; but Mr Wildgoose is unfortunately out of the way at 
present. 

Madaime Beaumonde. — Wliy, his servants seem to be as 
odd persons as himself To say one's not at home when one 
is, I have often found convenient enough since I've been in 
England; but to say one's at home when one's out, is a 
singularity I can't see the merit of But I suppose it is one of 
Mr Wildgoose's eccentricities. Well, you'll give my compH- 
ments to your master, and tell him I called to apologise for not 
being able to receive him to-morrow evening, as I am unex- 
pectedly called upon to leave town for Paris. (Aside.) So at 
least I mean everybody to beheve. 

Idleton. — ^Yes — and tell him that I called to — to — ^why 
did I call, Madame Beaumonde? — I declare I quite forget. 

Madame Beaumonde. — I beheve it was merely your pohte 
attention to me, Mr Idleton. 

Idleton. — Oh — ay — I dare say it was— but it's cursed 
troublesome to have walked up stairs only to walk down again. 

IJnter Knowall. 

ICnowall. — Frank, tell your master I'm very sorry for 
him — very sorry indeed. 

Madajme Beaumonde.— Why, what has happened to him, 
Mr KnowaU? 

ICnowall. — Oh — only a crash ! I suppose you know how 
it is below? The house fuU of bailiffs ! 

Madame Beaumonde. — Bailiffs in Mr Wildgoose's house ! 
Wliy, I thought he had more money than he knew what to do 
with. 

Knowall. — Oh — a fresh pair every day for this fortnight 
past! 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 59 

Madame Beaumonde. — Surprising ! 

Knowall. — Not at all ! I knew it would happen — I could 
have foretold it six months ago, only I don't like to mention 
these things. 

Idleton. — Yes — yours is the only safe way of prophesying, 
Knowall; you never mention your predictions till they are 
accomplished. 

Knowall. — Nay — haven't I given Wildgoose a thousand 
friendly hints? I made a point of dining with him two or 
three times a week on purpose. 

Madame Beaumonde. — ^And his table, I suppose, was so 
crowded by people anxious to give him good advice, that the 
poor man is at last ruined by the considerate care of his 
friends. 

KJNOWALL. — "Well — I really am grieved about poor Wild- 
goose. 

Madame Beaumonde. — But they say, Mr Knowall, nothing 
alleviates grief so much as imparting it to others ; so that you, 
who relate the misfortunes of your friends to every one you 
meet, must find your consolations overbalance your sorrows. 
{Exeunt Madame Beaumonde and Idleton.) 

Knowall. — Sneering devil! She's as satirical as Belton. 
I wish he'd marry her. They'd be like two wild cats in the 
same cage — they'd worry each other to death before the end of 
the honeymoon. 

Enter Trusty. 

Here's one of Wildgoose's creditors, I suppose. 

Trusty. — Heyday! The young gentleman gone off! 

Knowall (aside). — Gone off ! I was not aware of that. 
(To Trusty.) Oh yes — he set off last night — he's in France 
by this time. 

Trusty. — In France !— no, no — I know better than that. 

Knowall. — Do you, sir? I should be glad of a little con- 



60 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

versation with you. For my part, I know nothing of Mr 
Wildgoose's affairs— indeed, I never interfere in anybody's 
private concerns. (TJiey sit down to the table.) Come, sir 
(taking a glass of wine), here's to our friend Wildgoose's better 
circumstances. {Drinks.) Ah sir — Mr Wildgoose has been 
an unthinking, prodigal young man. Such entertainments as 
he used to give ! Such wines I (Rings the hell, and enter 
Frank.) Frank, I don't think this Champagne is so good as 
I have drunk here before. 

Frank. — Give me leave to try another cork, sir. Or will 
you taste our Burgundy, sir? it's excellent. 

Knowall. — Aye — ^let's have a bottle. (Exit Frank.) 'Tis 
lamentable, sir, to see one's friends ruining themselves daily, 
without one's being able to prevent them. 

Re-enter Frank ivith the wine. 

Frank {aside to Knowall). — ^My master desired me, if you 
called, sir, to say that he'd be much obliged to you if you 
could make it convenient to pay him the hundred pounds you 
borrowed of him. 

Knowall {half aside). — Eh? — Oh — I'll settle that, Frank, 
to your master's satisfaction. 

Trusty. — I presume, sir, Mr Wildgoose is indebted to you? 

Knowall. — Wliy as to that, sir, whatever money transac- 
tions may have passed between Mr Wildgoose and me, I am 
not the man to trouble him about them — especially at a time 
like this. 

Trusty. — Ah sir! you are a friend — so unhke the gene- 
rahty of the world — who will eat and drink at a man's expense, 
borrow his money, and, when they have ruined him, be the 
first to revile him. 

Knowall {confused). — Very true indeed! 

Trusty. — Come, sir — though I am an old man, age has not 
extinguished all my indignation against roguery. Here's con- 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 61 

fusion to all such scoundrels ! (Takes up a glass of wine.) 
You don't fill your glass, sir. 

Knowall (confused). — ^No — I've had enough. (Aside.) I 
don't half like this old fellow. I shall be off (Going.) 

Trusty. — If you please, sir, I'll take a memorandum of 
your name and the amount of your debt, to give it Mr Wild- 
goose. A man in distress meets with so few friends, that he 
should acknowledge their kindness if it be but for its sin- 
gularity. 

Knowall (aside). — Is he sneering at me? (To him.) Pray 
Mr — what's-your-name — why are you so interested about 
Mr Wildgoose? — does he owe you money? 

Trusty. — ^No sir — my errand here is to bring him money. 

Knowall. — Oh, ho! a money-lender I — a usurer! Why 
you old cent.-per-cent. sinner — ^you retail dealer in rapacity — ■ 
you vile invader of the chartered rights of the synagogue ! I 
felt that you were a money-lender the moment I entered the 
room. And then the cant by which you try to conceal it — 
like the whining of the hyena over her prey. Pah ! I could'nt 
stay in the same room with such a fellow ! (Exit?) 

Trusty. — ^Very pleasant all this, Mr Frank! Why, I've 
undergone as many transformations within this hour as the 
clown in a pantomime. I began as plain Thomas Trusty, the 
old steward. I soon expanded into an "Honourable" with a 
large estate. Then I grew very profligate all of a sudden — 
found a father — lost a fortune — and became a debtor of my 
young master. From his debtor I presently sprouted into his 
creditor — then into a usurer — and last of all into a hyena! 
What I'm to become next, heaven knows — but I hope to good- 
ness I shall be allowed to resume my own shape in the course 
of the evening, and go to bed as I rose — honest Thomas 
Trusty. 

Frank. — Never you fear, Mister Trusty — we shall all come 
right at last. (Exit Trusty.) You may come out now, sir. 



Q2 . MAREIAGE IN MAY PAIE. 

(Enter Wildgoose /rom the closet) 

Well, sir, how do you like yoiir discoveries? 

WiLDGOOSE.— Delightful ! The rascahty of my friends is 
quite refreshing. I shall be vilified and traduced by the whole 
town at last — and that's what I call true fame. Let them only 
talk about me, and I don't care what they say. Like a boy's 
kite — the stronger the adverse breeze, the higher I'll fly, I'll 
do something next that shall be ridiculous enough to make 
people forget the Tournament. (Exeunt) . 



END OF ACT III. 



MARKIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 63 



ACT IV. 

SCENE-«>/S^V Frederich Falkland's, 

Lady Falkland and Louisa. 

Lady Falkland.— -No, Loiiisa, nothing can justify tlie 
behaviour of Sir Frederick. 

Louisa.-— Except his wish to obHge you. You were angry 
at his behaving too well to you ; at last he has given you the 
satisfaction of behaving ill ; and now that don't please you ! 

Lady Falkland.- — Had his ill humour proceeded from 
jealousy, every harsh word would have been a cordial to my 
heart. But so far from that, he saw me actually coquet with 
Captain Belton, with a degree of indifference that stung me to 
the soul. 

Louisa. — Poor Lady Falkland! Your case is singularly 
hardj to be sure 1 Only think of having a husband who places 
such implicit confidence in your honour and prudence that he 
will not beheve his own eyes if they tell him anything to 
your disparagement. 

Lady Falkland. — Alas ! Louisa, I have lost his heart, 
and I will not be a restraint upon his inclinations. Do you 
know, my dear, I have seriously thought of a separation ! 

Louisa. — ^And suppose Sir Frederick should have been be- 
forehand with you? 

Lady Falkland (eagerly). — Good heavens ! can he have 
any such idea? Can he indeed think of parting from me? 



64 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

Louisa. — Not tliat I know of, I assure you. But wtat 
would you liave tlie poor man do ? You say you have thought 
of it? 

Lady Falbj^and. — Yes, I have seriously debated the mat- 
ter m my mind, and — ■ 

Louisa. — Ali, my dear sister, you may debate till you are 
weary. Love, the lord paramount of your heart, sits proudly 
secure of his majority, and will carry the question by a nod, in 
spite of all the opposition that Reason or Passion can bring 
against him. 

Lady Falkland. — Louisa, I am convinced that I have a 
rival. That Parisian Syren has enchanted him. I have lost 
his affection, and will never submit to be a pensioner on his 
pity. 

Louisa — "Well, here he comes, and I shall leave you to- 
gether. {Exit Louisa. — Lady Falkland sits down and 
takes a hooh.) 

Enter Sir Frederick. 

Sir Frederick {aside). — There she sits. How charming she 
looks ! What shall I say to her? ( Jb her.) Lady Falkland, I 
should apologise for intruding on your privacy, but — {she looks 
round at him) — ^but — have you seen my — my card-case? 

Lady Falkland. — Psha! 

Sir Frederick {aside). — Haughty, insensible woman ! I'm 
resolved not to flatter her pride. 

Lady Falkland {aside). — He is much mistaken if he ex- 
pects me to make the first advances. 

Sir Frederick {aside and embarrassed). — I must speak to 
her; and yet how awkward it is to acknowledge one's faults! 
I cordd tell her all her failings now with the utmost fluency, 
but when I want to speak of my own — somehow I cannot get 
a syllable out for the soul of me. How ridiculous I must look 
in her eyes ! I can't bear it any longer, {Exit.) 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 65 

Lady Falkland. — Gone ! without another word ! I have 
been to blame. Why did I let him go ? Why did I not speak ? 



Enter Servant. 

Servant. — My lady, here is a young person from Mrs 
Lamode's — she has brought home your ladyship's dress for the 
drawing-room to-morrow. 

Lady Falkland. — Go after Sir Frederick. 

Servant. — My lady, Sir Frederick saw the dress just now 
as he went out. 

Lady Falkland. — Say I particularly wish to speak to him. 

Servant. — ^Yes, my lady. 

Lady Falkland. — Tell him — no — don't tell him — that is— 

Servant. — Tell him that your ladyship dont wish to speak 
with him ? 

Lady Falkland. — Ah ! here he comes. Leave the room. 

Servant. — My lady seems to be of two or three minds this 
morning. {JExit.^ 

Lady Falkland. — He is agitated — there must be some- 
thing to cause this strange uneasiness. (^Sits dow7i, and again 
takes a hook.) 

Re-enter Sir Frederick. 

Sir Frederick (^embarrassed). — Lady Falkland, I wish to 
speak to you — tliat is — to ask you — 

Lady Falkland (aside}. — It's coming at last ! 

Sir Frederick {still embarrassed). — To ask you — (aside) 
— what shall I say? — (aloud) — to ask you — where you got 
your new Blenheim ? 

Lady Falkland. — Psha ! 

Sir Frederick. — Lady Grizzle has been boring me to 
death for one of the same breed, and — (after a pause) — no 
answer ! (He gets into a passion^ and rings the hell violently,) 



QQ MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

Ejiter Servant. 

{To Servant.) 1 want — (aside) — what the devil do I want?— - 
nothing — go — (Exit Servant.) Are you reading anything 
new, Lady Falkland? (Approaching her chair.) 

Lady Falkland (significantly). — A new novel — it is 
called " Indifference; or, The Fashionable Husband." (She 
goes on reading?) 

Sir Frederick («s^cZe). — Silent again! One might as well 
attempt to converse with one's flute ; for, like that, she won't 
breathe a sound but what one forces from her. (Again rings 
the hell violently — pause — enter Servant?) Surely no servants 
were ever so inattentive as mine. Why is not the carriage here? 

Servant. — I beg your pardon, Sir Frederick — ^but — it was 
not ordered. 

Sir Frederick. — Well, order it then, and let me know 
the moment it comes. 

Servant (to Lady Falkland). — Madame Beaumonde, my 
lady, has just called a second time, and was very anxious to 
know when your ladyship would be at home. {Exit.) 

Lady Falkland. — Again? Twice in half an hour ! I fancy 
her inquiries must be directed to you, Sir Frederick. Perhaps 
you will see her this evening? — (watching his reply anxiously?) 

Sir Frederick. — I am going to Lady Squanders', where 
I may meet her. 

Lady Falkland (aside). — Going to meet her! I cannot 
bear this — my pride falls before the strength of my affection. 
If he did but know how anxiously I wish for a reconciliation ! 
(She lays down the hooh and rises from her chair?) 

Enter Servant. 

Servant. — The carriage is here, Sir Frederick. 

Sir Frederick. — Already ! let it wait. Lady Falkland, 
I had a glimpse of your new dress just now — I admire it 
extremely. 



» 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 6? 

Lady Falkland. — So do I — (affectionately) — it reminds 
me of my wedding dress, and that, I remember, was your 
choice. 

Sir Frederick. — Charming woman! Caroline — (taking 
her hand?) — forget that we have quarrelled. 

Lady Falkland. — Will you forget it, Frederick ? I fear 
I have been to blame. 

Sir Frederick.- — Lnpossible, my dearest ! Two minutes 
ago, indeed, I could have sworn that you had been in the 
wrong ever since we have been married ; but — -I know not how 
it is — there are such irresistible arguments in your eyes that 
one look at them has convinced me you never were wrong in 
your life. 

Lady Falkland. — How sweet is flattery from you ! but 
tell me, Frederick, what is on your mind that you have not 
imparted to your Caroline ? There is something, I am sure. 

Sir Frederick. — Though I feel secure of your pardon, 
Carohne, shame will scarcely let me utter it. 

Lady Falkland (aside). — What can he mean? Have I 
indeed had a rival ? 

Sir Frederick. — How carefully should we watch the first 
growth of that poisonous weed, jealousy! (Aside.) I'll tell 
her all my suspicions* 

Lady Falkland (aside). — Is this a confession of his own 
feelings, or an endeavour to discover mine ? 

Sir Frederick. — Yes, Caroline — {tahirig her hand) — 

nothing shall any longer prevent me from declaring that 

(seeing Belton enter) — S death ! 

Enter Belton. 

Belton. — Ah! taking a tender adieu! It's odd — but 
somehow — ^whether from anticipating the pains or the plea- 
sures of absence — I never yet saw a married couple that were 
not fond at parting. 



68 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

Lady Falkland. — Parting ! 

Belton. — Wliat ! — hasn't lie told you ? Your cliarming 
friend, Madame Beaumonde, returns to France to-morrow, 
and Sir Frederick has promised to see her safe to Paris. By- 
the-bye, Falkland, I must trouble you to execute some httle 
commissions for me. (TJiey talk apart?) 

Lady Falkland {aside). — Am I in my senses? To this 
then it was that his cruel kindness meant to reconcile me I 
This was what shame prevented him from uttermg ! This, 
too, was the motive of her importunate visits ! Well ! — at least 
my amazement and indignation will supply the place of forti- 
tude, and save me from the mortification of exposing my mi- 
sery to the cruel cause of it. 

Sir Frederick {they come forward). — ^Well — but really, 
Belton, Madame Beaumonde cannot expect me to — 

Belton. — To perform your voluntary promise of attending 
her? 

Sir Frederick. — It is most unfortunate, Carohne, that — 
that — I did not think of mentioning this to you before — but — 

Lady Falkland {constraining herself to calmness). — Very 
unfortunate — because I have several commissions for you, and 
shall scarcely have time to write my letters. However I must 
conform to circumstances as well as I can. {Exit.) 

Sir Frederick. — Lady Falkland, let me say one word ? 

Belton. — Had you not better follow her, and look over her 
shoulder while she writes her letters, or she may seal up her 
heart in a billet-doux, and entrust it to your care, to deliver to 
some happy Frenchman ! ha ! ha ! 

Sir Frederick. — Pshal — what trifling! 

Belton. — I wonder you allow the poor woman the fi:ee use 
of her eyes ! Why don't you provide her with bhnkers, as 
you do your coach horses, to direct her sight the way you 
wish ? Lucky for you, Falkland, that your wife is not of a 
jealous temper. 



MARRIAGE IN MAY PAIR. 69 

Sir Frederick. — How do you know that she is not jealous? 

Belton. — Jealous ? She is a model of a wife — so pliant^ — so 
tractable — so confiding — resigns herself to separation without 
a sigh, if it is for your pleasure ! 

Sir Frederick. — Why, she did take it very quietly, I 
confess. 

Belton. — Quietly? — Why, you are one soul in two bodies? 
— like a couple of well-regulated watches, you'll agree as well 
at a thousand leagues distance, as if you were in the same room 
together. 

Sir Frederick. — Curse his sneering ! 

Enter Madame Beaumonde, announced hy a Servant. 

Madame Beaumonde (aside) — Belton here I I must take 
care he don't suspect that my pretended journey to Paris is 
only a ruse to frustrate his vile plot against Lady Falkland. 
(Aloud) — Why, Sir Frederick, I have besieged your door for 
this hour past, and could only gain admittance now by sub- 
mitting to the barbarism of enquiring for you instead of your 
wife. 

Belton. — Sir Frederick has been deeply engaged, Madame, 
in arranging some matters of business with Lady Falkland, 
previous to his journey. 

Madame Beaumonde. — His journey! 

Belton. — Bather yours, Madame — my friend could not 
forget the envied distinction with which you flattered him this 
morning, of allowing him to attend your steps. 

Madame Beaumonde. — Indeed ! I should rather have 
judged by his present manner that he did not recollect a word 
of the matter. 

Sir Frederick. — Nay, Madame Beaiunonde, I — (aside) 
— This Belton is my evil genius. 

Belton. — No, you wrong him I assure you — we have just 
had a friendly dispute on the subject — havc'nt wc, Falkland? 



70 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR, 

I know he had some pressing engagements in town, and I 
would have persuaded him to state it fairly to you— you re- 
member, Falkland, that was my advice, 

Madame Beaumonde (aside).— His assurance is admi- 
rable! and poor Falkland's embarrassment! (To Sir Frederick) 
Am I to understand, Sir Frederick, that you have appointed 
Mr Belton your interpreter in this weighty affair? 

Sir Frederick. — Madam, upon an occasion when I find it 
so difficult to express my feelings, and when sincerity might 
offend against politeness — 

Madame Beaumonde. — Oh — I should pardon the error far 
its singularity. 

Sir Frederick. — -You encourage me to speak with frank- 
ness. 

Madame Beaumonde. — ^And I set you the example — ^my 
tongue is the mirror of my heart — ^it displays a thousand follies, 
perhaps J but it does not reflect that worst of deformities — de- 
ceit. (Looking significantly at Belto7i.) Folly, like shallow 
water, honestly discovers its depth at the first glance ; but dis- 
simulation, like the treacherous ice, grows less and less trans- 
parent in proportion as it conceals the dangerous depth it 
tempts us to tread. What say you, Mr Belton? 

Belton. — True, madam — and yet all the world are skaiters. 
We are fond of gliding over a smooth surface. But I beg par- 
don. Sir Frederick — it is your turn to speak! (Aside?) I 
mustn't let him get off going. 

Sir Frederick. — Believe me, then, Madame Beaumonde, 
the pleasure of attending you — 

Belton (interrupting him gaily?) Is more than you are 
able to express. Well, so you told us before. 
Sir Frederick. — But when I consider — 
Belton. — How you will be envied— to be sure — ^we agreed 
upon that. 

Sir Frederick. — I am compelled to declare — 



MAERIAGE IN MAY PAIR. 71 

Belton.— -A declaration in forml 

Sir Frederick.— In short, madam, I liave but one word 
to add- — 

Belton. — Which is (for he'll never get it out unless I help 
him), that a journey with you to Paris, or a pistol, are his only 
alternatives. He hinted as much before you came in. 

Madame Beaumonde Well, gentlemen, there's no resist- 
ing such a duet of eloquence. Sir Frederick, I consent to 
receive you in my suite. I shall not go to Lady Squander's 
to-night, so you must sup with me, and bring your interpreter 
with you. In the meantime I wish to speak to Lady Falk- 
land. 

Sir Frederick. — Madam — I— I — 

Belton. — You see, madam, words are too poor to express 
his feehngs — so come along, Falkland. (Exeunt Belton and 
Sir Frederick.) 

Enter Louisa and Emma Belton. 

Madame Beaumonde. — My dear Louisa, where is your 
charming sister? 

Louisa {coldly). — I fear, Madame Beaumonde, Lady Falk- 
land is too ill to see you, 

Madame Beaumonde. — Would she assign that reason for 
not seeing her physician? Why then for not receiving her 
friend? And perhaps I may prove both in one. I may have 
a medicine for curing her malady that you and she little dream 
of In short, I must see her. 

Louisa. — You'll find her in her boudoir. {Exit Madame 
Beaumonde as to Lady Falkland.) This woman must 
have some secret reason for thus intruding herself upon my 
sister. I am resolved to be present at the conversation. {As 
she is going out, enter a Servant.) 

Servant. — Mr. Wildgoose, madam. 

Louisa.— Show him in. (Exit Servant.) Emma, my love. 



72 MAREIAGE IN MAY FAIE. 

I shall leave Mr Wildgoose to you for a few minutes. You 
may employ tliem in collecting the materials to finish his por- 
trait, which you began so flatteringly just now ! 

Emma Belton, — ^Dear madam, you will not place me in 
such a situation. 

Louisa. — Psha! my dear — ^you have nothing to do but 
speak ill enough of him, and you win his heart ; and with all 
his eccentricity you'll find it worth the winning, or I'm much 
mistaken. (Exit.) 

Enter Wildgoose. 

Wildgoose (aside). — Here's that handsome girl again. 
(To her.) I believe, madam, I have had the honour of meet- 
ing you here before. 

Emma Beltoist. — I'm quite ashamed, sir, to recollect that, 
not knowing your person, I — 

Wildgoose. — Ha! ha ! ha I — I remember — you are the lady 
who drew my picture so admirably this morning. (^Aside.) 
'Gad ! — I don't know when I've seen so lovely a girl ! 

Emma Belton. — I cannot claim the merit of being the ori- 
ginal artist, sir — mine was but a copy firom an engraving exe- 
cuted by others. 

Wildgoose. — Ah, madam, when once the original design 
of a good-natured portrait is completed, the impressions are 
worked ofi" and circulated by one's particular friends all over 
the town in a twinkhng. One meets with fifty caricatures for 
one good likeness. 

Emma Belton. — Yes, for it requires real talent to paint a 
true likeness, but illnature enables any dauber to draw a 
caricature. 

Wildgoose. — And yet there are some characters which, 
like perfect beauty, cannot be caricatured. Your friends in 
this hoyse, for instance — Sir Frederick and Lady Falkland are 
a most charming couple. (^Aside.) On a first acquaintance one 



MARKIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 73 

always speaks well of people's friends ; it is the privilege of 
intimacy to abuse tliem. 

Emma Belton. — Yes, sir — I am told they are universally 
remarked as being the happiest as well as handsomest couple 
in the circles of fashion. 

WiLDGOOSE {to himself).— -IndeedL I — " universally re- 
marked " — the "happiest and handsomest I" — I declare it 
never struck me before. If I were to get married, what should 
prevent my wife and I from being " universally remarked " in 
the same way ? 

Emma Belton.— Lady Falkland is indeed a charming 
woman. 

WiLDGOOSE (still to himself). — If we should be happy, it's 
so rare that we should be generally noticed for it. If we should 
be miserable, no fear but our friends would take care to remark 
that. If we happened to have a fine family of children, that 
would be sure to make us noticed ; and if we should chance to 
have none at all, that would be remarked still more. I declare 
I did not think marriage could have produced so many sub- 
jects for remark. 

Emma Belton (aside). — What a very odd young man ! — 
yet very agreeable. 

WiLDGOOSE (aside, after considering a little). — Yes, I will — 
I'll declare my passion for her. (To her.) You have told me 
yourself, madam, that I am a very odd kind of a fellow — and 
so I am — but my oddities are like my clothes ; let me change 
their fashion ever so often, they have no effect on my heart, 
which, somehow, I can't help thinking is in the right place. 
Nothing odd in that, I hope ? 

Emma Belton. — I trust not, sir. 

WiLDGOOSE. — You have wit and beauty, madam — and, in a 
word, I adore you ! 

Emma Belton. — Really, sir, this declaration is so sin- 
gular— 



74 MAREIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Why, ma'am, I should think you must often 
have heard it before. 

Emma Belton. — The terms in which you express your- 
self, sir— 

WiLDGOOSE. — Are they singular also, madam ? At least, 
they proceed from the heart; and really I think sincerity 
would be an excellent fashion on these occasions, and quite 
new. You must be amiable, madam, for you are the friend of 
Lady Falkland. I only hope that you still have a heart to 
dispose of, and that you have no fortune. 

Emma Belton. — I'm much indebted to you for your last 
wish, sir ! 

WiLDGOOSE. — ^Why, madam, to woo a lady's fortune with- 
out caring for her heart is too much in the common way 
for me. 

Emma Belton {aside). — There is something strangely pre- 
possessing about him. 

WiLDGOOSE. — As to my person, madam — look at me ! — 
My character — but I leave you to draw that. My fortune, 
which I lay at your feet, is considerable. Besides large expect- 
ations from a rich uncle, I am possessed of an unencumbered 
estate of the value of^ — 

Enter Knowall, preceded by a Servant^ ivlio announces Mm, 

to WiLDGOOSE. 

KJN'OWALL. — Ah, Wildgoose, I saw your queer cab at the 
door, and couldn't help coming in to condole with you on 
your misfortune. I'm excessively sorry — I'm told you're 
regularly done up — cleaned out — ruined ! 

WiLDGOOSE (aside to Knowall). — Zounds, Knowall, hold 
your tongue ! It would be particularly awkward for me to be 
ruined just at this moment. 

Knowall. — I can't help that — you should have chosen a 
more convenient opportunity then. But don't mind it — your 



MAKEIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 75 

case is a very common one — all one's acquaintance are ruined 
at one time or anotlier— one sees them stripped, one after the 
other, like the trees in October ; and yet, like the trees, a few 
months brings them into full leaf again. 

WiLDGOOSE {aside to Know all).— I tell you I wish to be 
thought in good circumstances. 

Knowall. — Of course you do — so does every man in your 
situation, I suppose. 

WiLDGOOSE [aside to him). — Particularly before that lady. 

Knowall. — Oh ! you want to borrow money of her, per- 
haps ? Oh-ho ! a female usurer !— what interest do you pay 
her, Wildgoose — eh ? — (significantly?) 

WiLDGOOSE (aside to him).- — I'm in love with her, and want 
to marry her. 

Knowall. — Ah I I see — you want to borrow her fortune 
upon your own personal security ! 

WiLDGOOSE (aside to him, very sternly). — I must insist, 
Mr Knowall, that you immediately unsay everything you have 
just said. 

Knowall. — Eh? Oh, with all my heart— anything to serve 
a friend — (aside) — In such a lighting age as this it's much safer 
to contradict oneself than other people. — (To Emma) — Madam, 
I am very sorry to find that I have repeated a false report 
about this gentleman. I assure you, Madam, no man is more 
anxious than I am to acquire the most certain proofs before I 
tell a story to the disadvantage of a friend. But, Madam, Mr 
Wildgoose has fully convinced me — 

Emma Belton. — And he has fully convinced me Sir — that 
he has been seeking either to insult or to deceive me. (Exit.) 

WiLDGOOSE. — There ! — see what your curs'd unlucky tongue 
has done. 

Knowall. — But seriously, Wildgoose, I am sorry for your 
situation. I protest when I heard of it, I said all I could on the 
occasion. 



76 MAEEIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

WiLDGOOSE (aside). — -Yes- — I heard you. 

Knowall. — But who is tliis girl? 

WiLDGOOSE.— Why that I can't exactly tell you at present 
— [aside) — for I don't know myself! (To /wm.) But I hope she 
will be my wife — that is to say if she will marry me in two or 
three days — T can't wait longer than that — and notwithstanding 
my ruin, you shall see our marriage signaHsed by some extra- 
ordinary circumstance. 

Knowall. — What — ^will it be a happy one? 

WiLDGOOSE. — I only began my attack two hours ago, and 
within the week you shall see my brows adorned with the 
laurels of victory. 

Knowall (aside). — And within the month, perhaps, adorned 
in another manner, if he's going to marry a woman he don't 
know. (To Mm.) But what's the lady's name? 

WiLDGOOSE. — Her name ! I wish you could tell me — for I 
quite forgot to ask her. 

Knowall. — Well — that's an "extraordinary circumstance," 
to begin with ! — I have a dozen engagements this evening, 
Wildgoose, but I can't refuse you my assistance in this matter. 
I'll ascertain your mistress's name directly. Depend upon it 
in five minutes you shall know who it is you are going to 
marry! (Exit.) 

Enter Belton, preceded by a Servant. 

Seryant. — I'll tell her ladyship you are here. Sir — ^but I 
believe she's engaged. [Exit on the opposite side.) 

Belton. — ^Well, Wildgoose, how am I to interpret your 
smiles? Will it do? How d'ye like her? 

Wildgoose (aside). — He means the girl he hoaxed me 
about this morning. I'U turn the tables on him. (To him.) 
Oh ! delightful ! Such a creature ! 

Belton.— 'You excite my curiosity. Couldn't I see 
her? 



MAKEIAGE IN MAY FATE. 77 

WiLDGOOSE. — 'No — (aside) — not unless you had the gift of 
second sight. 

Belton. — I must introduce her into hfe. I promised you I 
would. 

WiLDGOOSE {aside). — Yes — she has not been introduced 
into it yet, that I know of ! 

Belton. — Here comes Knowall, charged as usual, I sup- 
pose, with scandal, like a thunder-cloud with inflammable 
matter, and the first person he meets is sure to serve as a con- 
ductor to the mischief 

Enter Knowall. 

Knowall. — Ah ! Belton, I called at your lodgings as I came 
along, and put this letter for you in my pocket. (Jo WiLD- 
GOOSE, while looking for the letter^ I can't see any of the 
family — they are all shut up in their apartments, hke bees in 
winter. I'll try again, though. Oh! here it is. {Gives the 
letter to Belton, and exit.) 

Belton (aside). — My sister's handwriting! the old story, 
I suppose. ( Opening the letter?) Confusion ! — what can this 
mean? " Came to town — Mrs Lamode's, the milliner's " — 
Good heavens! — " sent me to you this morning" — I dread the 
rest — " was prevented calling on you " — then there are hopes. 
{To WiLDGOOSE.) Wildgoose, what tune did the girl from 
Mrs Lamode's call at my lodgings ? 

WiLDGOOSE. — Eh? — oh — at mine you mean? She never 
came near your's — {aside) — that will puzzle him. 

Belton {reading again). — " Accident directed me to a more 
friendly roof — Good heavens ! Wildgoose's house, no doubt — 
" where I have found that protection which a brother refused to 
the wretched Emma." 'Sdeath, sir — {aside) — but I must con- 
ceal my uneasiness from him — or I shall make matters worse. 

WiLDGOOSE. — ^Why, what's the matter, Belton? — ^you look 
devilish odd — has anything happened ? 



78 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR, 

Belton. — A letter on a disagreeable business — ^but I'll 
think no more of it. Wildgoose, I can't get this girl out of 
my head. You say she is young and very handsome. 

Wildgoose. — Eh? — oh — {aside) — I'll keep up the joke 
against him, however. {To him?) Handsome! I believe she 
is, indeed ! I've a pretty good taste, I fancy. 

Belton. — Well — give me a specimen of it — describe her. 
Wildgoose. — Eh? — describe her! — {aside) — that's a puz- 
zler. 'Gad, I'll describe my intended — Lady Falkland's young 
young friend. Nothing like drawing from nature. 

Belton {aside). — I'm on the rack! {To him.) Come — 
what is she like? 

Wildgoose. — Figure to yourself an elegant young creature 
— about the middle height — 
Belton. — ^With auburn hair? 

Wildgoose. — ^Yes — auburn hair. I see our tastes agree. 
Belton. — And her eyes? 

Wildgoose. — Her eyes ! — oh — the most languishing blue I 
Belton {aside). — Emma, by all that's dreadful ! 
Wildgoose. — By-the-bye, now I look again, I think her 
features resemble yours, Belton — ^you might be mistaken for 
brother and sister. 

Belton {aside). — Sdeath ! Does he know her? What's to 
be done? — I'll go to Lamode immediately — Is he insulting 
me? {To Wildgoose) Hear me, sir! I shall expect to find 
you here on my return — you have injured me deeply, and I 
shall insist on the most ample satisfaction. {Exit.) 

Wildgoose. — Satisfaction! What the devil does he mean? 
Why, supposing there had been a girl in the case — didn't he 
transfer her to me like so much stock, and for value received 
too? — Satisfaction? — stay — a duel! As sure a way as any 
of getting into piiblic notice. A man may shed his blood in 
his country's service for twenty years together, and remain as 
neglected and unnoticed as if he'd never been born ; but let him 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 79 

kill his man in a club-house quarrel — ruin his friend first, and 
shoot him afterwards — -and his name is up for ever. 

Enter Knowall. 

Knowall. — No news of her yet. 

WiLDGOOSE (not noticing him). — And as for the danger- 
people seldom hurt one another in duels nowadays. The first 
round produces (Hke a bad cheque) "no efiects," — the second — 
" fired in the air " — a sort of friendly salute — parties shake 
hands and all's right again I — capital ! — I am resolved to fight. 

Knowall. — To fight I With whom? Why, the man's mad. 

WiLDGOOSE {still to himself). — Then the fehcitations of 
one's friends next morning — " ah Tom! — glad to see you safe! 
— damned spirited I hear." {Seehig Knovtall) Ah Knowall, 
you come apropos — Belton has behaved ill to me. 

Knowall. — That's nothing new; he often behaves ill to me. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Does he? Zounds! I'd have him out if I 
were you. 

Knowall. — Psha ! what signifies taking notice of him ? 
He don't mean any harm. 

WiLDGOOSE. — I won't trouble you with the particulars of our 
dispute — {aside) — for I don't know what it was about ! — {aloud) 
I was warm, I own, and perhaps I may have said some un- 
guarded things. At all events, I'm determined on fighting him. 

Knowall {aside). — I should like of all things to see some- 
body shoot that Belton. {To WiLDGOOSE.) You're perfectly 
right, Wildgoose — his insolence is not to be borne. 

WiLDGOOSE. — I'll write him a challenge directly — {sits 
down and writes.) — you shall carry it, Knowall. 

Knowall {aside). — Well, I should like to have a hand in 
abolishing that horrid Belton, Wildgoose, you know my 
fi:iendship for you — 

WiLDGOOSE {aside). — Yes — I heard it through the closet 
door, this morning. 



80 MAREIAGE m MAY FAIR. 

KJN'OWALL. — And thougli I never interfere in other people's 
affairs, I have no objection to take your challenge for you. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Thank you — I'll do the same for you at any 
time. 

Knowall (aside). — Not if I know it. {To Mm.) Oh, I 
offer you my services without any desire of having them re- 
turned — (aside) — at least in kind. 

WiLDGOOSE (rising from the table). — Let's see — how many 
paces? — one — two — three — (pleasuring his steps). 

Enter Idleton. 

Ah, Idleton 1 I am under the disagreeable necessity of fight- 
ing with your friend Belton; but you know if a man suffers 
himself once to be affronted with impunity, every future 
action of his life invites insult and clerision. 

Idleton. — That was just the doctrine of poor Tom Trigger 
— you knew Tom Trigger? 

Wildgoose. — Perfectly well. 

Idleton. — He was shot through the heart in a duel this 
morning. 

Knowall. — Ah ! I knew that would be his end — I always 
said so. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Shot! — through the heart! The devil! 
Of course, they fired several times ? Very scandalous of the 
seconds to suffer it. 

Idleton. — No, the first shot did it. I'll lend you my pis- 
tols, Wildgoose — they are the fellow pair to poor Trigger's. 
You'll have nothing to do but take one each — toss up for the 
first fire — and the thing's done — Belton never misses. But 
where is Falkland ? — I want to see him. 

Knowall. — Come, Wildgoose — I'm in haste to be gone — 
where's the challenge ? 

Wildgoose. — Shot through the heart! — A deuced ugly 
way of getting into public notice. 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR= 81 

Knowall. — ^I'U deliver it to Belton on tKe spot, if you like, 
for here he comes. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Does he ? Poor Tom Trigger ! Idleton^ 
you wish to see Sir Frederick Falkland, and I know you are 
in haste. I'll go with you to him — aire's in the hbrary— -come 
along. {Eccit^ pushing Idleton out before Imn). 

Knowall. — How savage Belton looks ! There's bullets 
and blunderbusses in his very frowns. I believe I had best fol- 
low the example of my principal, and be his second in the 
retreat instead of the battle. {Exit Knov/all at one door as 
Belton enters at the other?) 

BELTON.—ISro intelligence to be gained of this unhappy 
girl ! She has not been heard of at Lamode's since she left 
there. Wildgoose gone, too ! Wretch that I am ! to have 
consigned her to infamy with my own hand ! I must seek 
Wildgoose, and know the worst. Just at this moment, too, 
when my views on Lady Falkland promise the most unhoped' 
for triumph ! This struggle is intolerable I The ecstacy of my 
newly-awakened hopes of success is scarcely sufficient to bear 
me up against the agony of my fears that a sister's honour has 
been sacrificed by my hand ! The next half hour must decide 
both. (Exit?) 



\ 



EHD OF ACT IT, 



82 MAEEIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 



ACT V. 

SCENE — Sir Fredeiick Falkland's house. 

Enter Sir Feederick. 

Sir Frederick. — How intolerable are tlie feelings of Mm 
who is at variance witli the woman he loves ! I cannot endure 
this any longer. I must be reconciled to her ; and I flatter 
myself that will be no very difficult matter. I think I see my 
dear, disconsolate CaroHne, numbering the tedious minutes of 
my absence by her sighs ! Let me fly to her, and taste the 
highest bliss that love can bestow — the moment of reconci- 
liation. {Rings.) 

Enter Servant. 

Is Lady Falkland in her boudoir? 

Servai^t. — Her ladyship is not at home, Sir Frederick. 

Sir Frederick. — ^Not at home! — and Miss Louisa? 

Servant. — The ladies are both out, Sir Frederick. 

Sir Frederick. — Together? 

Servant. — ^No, Sir Frederick — her ladyship went out alone, 
in a hackney coach. 

Sir Frederick. — Alone ! — in a hackney coach ! Do you 
know where? {Aside.) 'Sdeath! I shall expose myself to my 
servants. 

Servant. — No, Sir — my lady herself gave the coachman 
his directions. {Exit.) 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 83 

Sir Frederick. — Well — it is impossible I can pass over 
this I If Lady Falkland has forgotten what she owes to 
her own character, it is time I should remember what is due to 
mine. I'll write to her instantly (sits down and writes). — 
" Madam — ^your conduct — hackney coach — my honour and 
your own — the agonies I suffer — character lost for ever — 
perfect indifference I feel — Frederick Falkland." Well — 
my mind is easier now. Stay — let me read it again — oh! 
(writing) " Postscript. A reconciliation is impossible — this is 
the last time I shall ever address you." ( While sealing it he 
stops suddenly/.) No, no — this letter is too harsh — too abrupt 
—it will break her heart. — Besides, she may have some expla- 
nation to give me. 

Eiiter Servant 

Servant.- — ^A porter enquired if you were within, Sir Fre- 
derick, and left this note to be delivered to you instantly. (Exit.) 

Sir Frederick. — An unknown hand (breaking the seal and 
reading). " Tremble for your honour. Lady Falkland " — • 
good heavens !— what's this?—" Lady Falkland will be at Mrs 
Lamode's in an hour, to meet the perfidious Belton. Follow 
her thither ; but dissemble ; and let no provocation tempt you 
to revenge till you receive such proof of his falsehood as I 
alone can give you. My assistance depends on your conform- 
ing to these instructions.— T/te deserted Leonora.^' Villain ! 
villain! — but I have him in the toils! Ungrateful woman! 
Yet the fault is all my own. Fool that I was to affect that 
indifference which is the common bane of husbands. Can I 
complain of her heart for seeking other companionship, when 
my seeming indifference has driven the unhappy wanderer 
from its home. What's to be done? — I'll seek Belton instantly. 
This meeting may be prevented — or the charge may be a 
groundless one. At least let me observe the caution it enjoins. 
(Exit). 



84 MAREIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

Scene changes to Beltons house. — Enter Belton and Mes 
Lamode, meeting. 

Mrs Lamode. — Your servant, Mr Belton. I am sorry I 
was not at home wlien you called at my house. I find you 
made particular enquiries about tlie young thing I sent you 
this morning. It's very extraordinary that she has not returned 
to me. 

Belton {eagerly). — What can have become of her? — she 
must be sought for instantly. 

Mrs Lamode. — But you say you have not seen her. Wliy 
should you be so interested about her? 

Belton (aside). — What's to be done? How to proceed ?^ — 
should she suspect ! — all may depend on a few moments. 

Mrs Lamode. — But I have good news for you, Mr Belton, 
on a more important matter. 

Belton. — Good news — from whom? 

Mrs Lamode. — Read that {giving him a letter). 

Belton. — Madame Beaumonde's hand! {reads). Transport- 
ing intelligence ! She tells me she has persuaded Lady Falk- 
land to accompany her to your house this evening, under 
pretence of choosing some articles of dress — that she expects 
me in an hour — and what is more, that Lady Falkland expects 
me. Why, thou dear dispenser of gauze and gallantry, this is 
news indeed. How shall I express my gratitude ? 

Mrs La^iode. — By giving at the same time a proof of your 
taste. I have the loveliest Chantilly veil below stahs ! I'll 
run and fetch it while you are writing an answer to that note. 
{Aside.) There's nothing like striking a bargain with a man 
while he's in love. (Exit.) 

Belton {ri7igs, and enter Servant). — Set candles in the 
library. {Exit Servant.) I'll answer this charming epistle at 
once. Falkland's folly has done more for me in one day than 
months of my own skill and assiduity could have effected. 
How little reason would men of gallantry have to boast of 



MAERIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 85 

success among married women, if husbands were not kind 
enough, by their own bad generalship, to assist us in the 
conquest. [JExit.) 

Enter Sir Frederick Falkland at the other door, with a 

Servant. 
Sir Frederick. — Your master is within. Say I insist on 
seeing him, and shall wait here till he comes. {Exit Ser- 
vant^ But let me be calm — there may be some error still. 

Enter Mrs Lamode, ivith a veil in her hand. She speaks as 
she enters without seeing Sir Frederick. 

Mrs Lamode. — Here's the veil — cheap at five-and-twenty 
guineas, I assure you. Lady Falkland particularly admires it ! 

Sir Frederick. — And has sent you to me ? 

Mrs Lamode (startled). — To you, sir? I have not the 
honour of knowing you. I thought Mr Belton was here. 

Sir Frederick (aside). — So ! a messenger from my wife 
to Belton ! There's an end of all doubt. (To her.) Where is 
Lady Falkland? 

Mrs Lamode. — Lady Falkland did I say, sir ? — ^what was 
I thinking of? 

Sir Frederick. — I'll tell you — you were thinking of deli- 
vering a message from Lady Falkland, who is to be by ap- 
pointment at Mrs Lamode's this evening, to meet Mr Belton. 
Come, come — ^you need not conceal anything from me. 

Mrs Lamode. — Why really, sir, there seems nothing left 
for me to conceal. You appear to know the whole affair as 
well as I do. 

Sir Frederick. — I presume you are Mrs Lamode ? 

Mrs Lamode. — The same, sir, at your service, and you 
are — 

Sir Frederick. — A particular friend of Mr Belton's. 

Mrs Lamode. — And like most " particular friends," his 



86 MAERIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

rival witli the woman lie loves, if I may judge by your agita- 
tion at tlie mention of Lady Falkland's name. 

Sir Frederick.-— Well, I won't deny that I have been his 
successful rival there, but that's all over. And now tell me 
what has produced this meeting between Lady Falkland and 
Mr Belton ? 

Mrs Lamode. — Oh I the old story, sir— she and her fool of 
a husband have had a quarrel. 

Sir Frederick. — I'm answered ! 

Mrs Lamode. — You seem, sir, to be a gentleman who 
understands these little matters ; and as you say your own 
affair with the lady is at an end, pray tell me, as a friend of 
Mr Belton's, how you think he is most likely to succeed in 
making an impression on Lady Falkland's heart ? 

Sir Frederick (aside). — A pretty question to her hus- 
band ! 

Mrs Lamode. — Some ladies, you know, sir, refuse to make 
a faua; pas except according to the strictest rules of " senti- 
ment ;" while others think there is no surer proof of having 
conquered a man's heart than that of gaining the command of 
his purse. 

Sir Frederick. — Lady Falkland has changed greatly since 
I first knew her, but I believe " Love for Love " is still her 
motto. 

Mrs Lamode. — And may I ask, sir, if Mr Belton knows of 
your former intimacy with this lady ? 

Sir Frederick. — Not a word of it — so you must be silent 
as the grave on that point. Nor must he know that I suspect 
his attachment. 

Mrs Lamode. — Oh, sir, I observe the strictest secresy on 
these occasions. If it were his own wife he never should have 
heard of it from me ; and but for this accident, even you, sir — 
but hush 1 he's here ! 



MARKIAGE IN MAY FAIE. 87 

Enter Belton, ivJio starts at seeing Sir Frederick. 

Sir Frederick.— Belton, you seem surprised at seeing 
me and your friend, Mrs Lamode, so well togetlier. 

Belton (^confused). — Rather surprised, I confess. 

Sir Frederick.— You must find lier a very convenient 
acquaintance, 

Belton. — Yes, I — I own it. 

Sir Frederick (aside to him),~—l too hope to avail myself 
of her services — ^but (for reasons that you may guess) I must 
beg you to conceal my name. 

Belton (aside). — She does not know it then? I breathe 
again ! 

Mrs Lamode. — ^Well, Mr Belton, where is this note? 
Why, if the lady had sent me to her husband, I should 
not have had longer to wait for an answer. (Belton gives 
her the note.) 

Sir Frederick.— a married woman, then ? 

Mrs Lamode. — Oh, yes ! — I dare say you know the hus- 
band. (Aside to Sir Frederick.) Mr Belton Httle thinks 
how you laugh at him in your sleeve I (Aloud.) A man of 
consideration too, I assure you. 

Belton (aside),— This woman's cursed tongue will spoil 
all I — (making signs to her to he silent.) 

Sir Frederick (to Belton). — Some silly dupe, I suppose, 
whom you gull with professions of friendship ! But are you 
sure he don't suspect you ? 

Belton. — Confident of it. I own I once had doubts on the 
point ; but at this moment they are entirely removed. 

Mrs Lamode. — Oh ! no fear of keeping the husband in the 
dark whilst I have the management of the business. Ha ! 
ha ! Well, 'tis really cruel to laugh at a poor devil in such a 
situation ; but I vow I can't help it. (Laughs.) 

Sir Frederick (aside). — I must either laugh myself, or go 
distracted. 



BS MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

Belton (to Sir Frederick.) — Wlien did you see our 
friend, Lady Falkland ? (A^side to him?) Lamode will never 
suspect wlio you are after that question-^(asz6?e to himself)-— 
at least, if she does it will give lier a hint to be silent. 

Sir Frederick.— Lady Falkland ?— Oh— Mrs Lamode can 
tell you more of her than I can. I believe Lady Falkland is a 
customer of her 's. 

Mrs Lamode.— Why yes, sir — ^but in my business—- 

Belton [inter7mpting her).— 'Bui you are forgetting your 
business, Mrs Lamode, which just at present is to carry my 
note to its destination. 

Mrs Lamode.— But, sir— one word— 

Belton. — -Not a syllable. {Aside.) She'll discover all if I 
don't get rid of her. 

Mrs Lamode. — But the Chantilly veil — • 

Belton.— I'll take it. 

Mrs Lamode. — I have one still handsomer at home. 

Belton. — ^Well, I'll take that too — I'll take your whole 
stock in trade — your young ladies — yourself— all at your 
own price — if you will but go now — {pushes her out.) WeU, 
Sir Frederick, after what you have heard to-night, I suppose I 
shall not be able to make you jealous of me. I shall lose my 
wager 1 But you must excuse me now. You see my posi- 
tion ! My compliments to Lady Falkland. Let me see you 
before you leave town. 

Sir Frederick {significantly and half aside as he goes out). 
■ — -You shall see me very soon, depend upon it — and when you 
least expect it. 

Belton. — That's well over — and now let me once more 
seek this unhappy sister. [Exeunt different ways.) 

SCENE — Changes to Wildgoose s house. 
Enter Wildgoose and Frank. 
FRANK.—Yes, sir, Mr Belton has been here again, about the 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 89 

young lady from the country. The very mention of her seems 
to drive him beside himself 

WiLDGOOSE.— What the deuce shall I do? Since I've 
found out that I'm so much in love I don't fancy fighting. I've 
nothing left for it but to put my new project into execution at 
once. 

I^RANK.— What, sir, shoot yourself, to avoid the chance of 
somebody else shooting you? 

WiLDGOOSE. — What, you don't think killing oneself an act 
of heroism? What do you say to Cato and Curtius? 

Frank. — I don't know anything about those gentlemen, 
sir ; but I should hardly think they would have been celebrated 
as heroes, if, like most fashionable felo-de-ses, they had sneaked 
out of the world to cheat their creditors. The act of suicide 
is now-a-days only a genteel substitute for the act of insolvency. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Well — ^you know I have no intention of 
making myself immortal that way at present. I mean to con- 
fine myself to an " attempt " merely. But is everything 
properly arranged with an eye to newspaper effect, eh Frank? 
for if we manage it well, I think this attempt on my own life 
may be the making of me. 

Frank. — Why, sir, if we are to credit the police reports, to 
attempt to kill one's self now-a-days seems a capital mode of 
getting one's living. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Well — is everything ready as we settled it? 

Frank. — All ready, sir. I've charged your pistols with 
paper bullets, and prepared your hat as you directed me ; and 
there's the Essay against the Immortality of the Soul, sir 
(^pointing to table). 

WiLDGOOSE. — Let me see — then after I've taken leave of 
my friends, I fire my first pistol, which misses me, and the ball 
goes through my hat? 

Frank. — ^Yes, sir {fetching the hat). Here is the hole that 
the bullet is to make. 



90 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Ay— that'll do very well — though I had 
rather it had been a little larger— and how stupid I — why, you've 
made the hole on the wrong side I The newspaper wags will 
say the attempt was a left-handed one {putting the hat on, and 
pointing the pistol^ to show that the hole ought to have been on 
the right side). 

Frank. — Upon hearing the report, Thomas (whom I shall 
post in the next room to watch you) is to rush in and wrench 
the second pistol from yom^ hand before you can fire it. 

WiLDGOOSE.— Well — that's all right, then. But I must 
have pen and ink, and a bottle of wine before me. I have 
observed, Frank, that people generally drink and write before 
they shoot themselves. 

Fran'k.— Why, sir, I thought you had already written all 
the notes that are to be delivered after your decease. But 
here is Thomas, come to receive his instructions. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Desire him to be quick in his motions — ^it 
will be deucedly awkward if I should be obliged to fire twice 
before he comes to my assistance. One can't very well miss 
oneself twice, you know. But stop — ^liow are we to ensure 
the thing being properly known ! 

Frank. — Oh, 'send for Mr Knowall, sir, and confide it to 
him as a profound secret, and half the town will know it by 
to-morrow morning. 

Enter the Groom, drunk. Wildgoose goes to the bottom of 
the stage and walks^ reading a hook. 

Why, Thomas, good liquor seems to have got the whip-hand 
of you. Why you are tipsy. 

Thomas. — I tipsy! Come — I like that — I, who abominate 
all kinds of drinking — 

Frank. — Except hard drinking. Well, Thomas, you re-* 
member I told you this evening that your master seems to be 
a little disordered in his head. 



MARRIAGE IN MAT TAIR, 91 

Thomas.— All — ^he looks as if he was tipsy. It's a sad 
failing where people are so inclined. 

Frank.— Between you and me, Thomas, I'm afraid he 
thinks of destroying himself. 

Thojvias. — Poor gentleman ! Ah, he's reading — ^that looks 
bad. I always hated reading from a child. 

Frank. — Now I want yon to be upon the watch in the next 
room; and if you should hear a pistol go off, run immediately 
to his assistance. 

Thomas. — That I will, as fast as my legs can carry me 
(^staggering). But I say. Master Frank, pay me my wages 
first. 

Frank. — What does the man mean? 

Thomas. — Let master make away with himself as much as 
he hkes — but he has no right to make away with another 
man's property. I'll have my wages. 

Enter Servant. 

Servant. — Mr Idleton, Sir. 

WiLDGOOSE. — ^Why, Frank, here's Idleton come already. 
Well — show him up. (Exit Servant.) 

Thomas. — I'm sure his honour would pay me my wages 
directly, if he was sober, 

Frank. — Be quiet I 

Thoivlas. — Oh, but I will have my wages. 

FraisTK. — Well, well — you shall. I'll pay you in the next 
room. (Exit, pushing the Groom out.) 

Enter Idleton. 

Idleton. — Why, Wildgoose, what the devil made you send 
for me in such a hurry ? — ^you know how I hate to be hurried. 
But I suppose I can guess the occasion. 

, Wildgoose {in a mock-melancholy tone). — Perhaps it is the 
last time I may ever give you trouble, my dear friend. 



92 MAKRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

Idleton. — I hope it is — I don't like trouble. I've brought 
my pistols, for I think you said you were going to' fight with 
somebody {lays the pistols on the table). 

Enter Frank. 
Frank.-— Sir Harry Headlong and Mr Knowall, Sir. 

Enter Sir Harry Headlong and Knowall. 

Knowall.— Ah! how are you both? Why, Wildgoose, 
what's the matter? You look as melancholy — 

Sir Harry. — ^Why, Tom, what's come to you? You look 
deucedly like a disinherited man ! I'll bet you fifty to forty I 
name your grievance. The old hunks has kicked the bucket, 
and cut you off with a shilling, eh? 

Wildgoose. — Don't jest with death. Headlong. The 
grave's a serious matter. 

Sir Harry. — Well — but you're not dead yet, so what is it? 
Your ruin happened yesterday, so it can't be that. 

Wildgoose. — I think you must all of you have observed 
my being very dull lately. 

Idleton. — ^Not more so than usual. 

Sir Harry. — Dull — dam'me — ^you were always as dull as 
prayer-time at college; but now — why, I'd match you against 
my old aunt Mouser on a Sunday morning just after Meeting ! 

Wildgoose. — The fact is, I begin to agree with certain 
philosophers in their opinion of life — ^it's not worth the keeping. 
I've just been reading this unanswerable defence of self-de- 
struction. A man can hardly bear to live till he gets to the 
end of it. 

Knowall {looking at the title-page). — Ah ! I happened to 
know the author — he died of a complication of disorders the 
other day, after spending half his fortune on quacks who pro- 
mised him long life. 



MAKRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 93 

Sir Harry. — Ha 1 ha ! ha ! — Like doctors and direction 
posts — pointing out the road he never meant to go himself! 

WiLDGOOSE (in a prosing puritanical tone). — Nay, my 
friends — but consult your own experience and feelings — every 
day presents us with the same round of the same follies — 

Sir Harry. — ^Which same follies are devilish entertaining. 

WiLDGOOSE {in the same tone) . — We eat, drink, and sleep — 

Kkowall. — Of course we do. What can we do better ? 

WiLDGOOSE {the same). — ^We go to bed at night and rise in 
the morning — 

Idleton. — I generally go to bed in the morning and get up 
at night. 

WiLDGOOSE. — In short, I have run the whole career of dis- 
sipation, and am sick of it all; and when that's the case, I don't 
see what a man of spirit can do but shoot himself So I mean 
to conclude my round of follies — of which I heartily repent — 

Sir Harry. — With the greatest folly of all, and of which 
you can't repent. Talking of follies, Tom — I saw Dick 
Highover's new turn-out to-day — it's about the spiciest thing 
going. 

WiLDGOOSE (gaily and off his guard). — Yes, I mean to 
have one exactly Hke it ! 

Knowall, — What!— to be buried in? (Aside.) I smoke 
this business. 

WiLDGOOSE (resuming his former tone). — Ah ! my thoughts 
wander sadly ! But tell me, can either of you say anything to 
dissuade me from my resolution ? 

Idleton. — I can't. Not but I've heard strong arguments 
against killing one's self; but I forget them all ; — though now I 
think of it, it must save a man a vast deal of trouble. But 
then again it's hardly worth the trouble of doing it — one's sure 
to die of one's own accord, you know, some time or other. 

Sir Harry. — Die ! — phoo !— what's the good of dying ? 
Life's the thing ! Kill yourself? — nonsense ! Come, Tom, 



94 MAKRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

I'll bet you five to one (ponies or hundreds, wMch you like) 
tliat you don't kill yourself once within an liour — ^play or pay. 
— Is it a bet ? 

WiLDGOOSE.— What say you, Knowall ? But don't attempt 
to dissuade me. 

Knowall. — Not I, indeed ! — I admire your spirit. (Aside.) 
It's a hoax, I'll be sworn. 

WiLDGOOSE. — What is life? (Idleton plat/s with the 
pistols — WiLDGOOSE is alarmed.) I say, Idleton, take care 
what you're about — you may do one a mischief. 

Knowall {taking up the pistols). — Here — take them your- 
self You may depend upon it they'll do your business effec- 
tually. Headlong, just go and see that the coast's clear, that 
he may not be interrupted. 

Sir Harry. — Well, if he's determined on it — {going to each 
of the doors) — But I say, Tom, be quick about it, will you, 
for I promised to meet Frohck at Crockford's in half an hour, 
for a match at billiards, and I should like to see the last of you 
for old acquaintance sake. 

Knowall {having taken the pistols in his hands) .—Covae, 
how do you mean to do it? Hem-— {pointing one of the pistols 
towards WiLDGOOSE in handing it to him.) 

WiLDGOOSE.— Take care I— what the devil are you going 
to do? 

Knowall.— Why, inspired by the true Roman friend- 
ship, I prefer your honour to your life. I wish you could have 
consented to live. But as you say you can't, and as your 
word is pledged, why fire away ! {During this speech Frank 
comes in and gives a letter to WiLDGOOSE — WiLDGOOSE reads 
the letter and then comes forward^ 

WiLDGOOSE.— Gentlemen, I'm sorry to say I sha'n't be able 
to carry out my project to-night— I have just been reminded of 
a particular engagement that— 

Knowall. — Oh ! we'll make your apologies — 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 95 

WiLDGOOSE. — But I tell you I've recollected an appoint- 
ment with a lady — tlie very lady, Knowall, that you saw me 
talking with at Sir Frederick Falkland's. 

Knowall. — Psha ! a mere excuse — 

Enter Thomas. 

Thomas. — It's very late, your honour — indeed you had 
better not shoot yourself to-night — do it the first thing in the 
morning. A nap will be of service to both of us. (Frank 
persuades Thomas to go out. ) 

KNOWALL.-^Heyday, Wildgoose ! — why, your intention 
seems to be universally known — it was to have been a " pub- 
lic execution," eh? You meant to "make an example" of 
yourself ! 

WiLDGOOSE. — Sir J I don't understand this sneering — I shall 
insist — 

Idleton. — Nay, Wildgoose, one at a time — you know you 
are engaged to fight Belton. 

Sir Harrt. — The deuce he is ! Why — ay — now this is 
something like ! A duel ! — there's some sense in that ! (Makes 
motions as if firing— first to one side, then the other.) One 
winged — the other riddled ! — there's life in that ! — that's what 
Hike! 

Knowall. — ^Yes, I expect Belton here every minute. 

Wildgoose (aside). — The devil you do !■— then I must be 
off. Keally , gentlemen, I'm sorry to disappoint you ; but you 
wouldn't have me kill myself just when a lady's waiting for 
me. (Exit Wildgoose). 

Knowall. — Ha ! ha ! ha ! I knew how it was. Frank, is 
this a real or pretended engagement of your master's? 

Frank. — I know, sir, he has received a note respecting a 
lady he met at Sir Frederick Falkland's, and he is going to 
meet her at Mrs Lamode's, the milHner's, this evening. 

Knowall. — Eh? Why, what the deuce can be in the wind 



96 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

now? Mrs Lamode lives close by — I know lier — let's go anc* 
see what will be tbe end of the affair. 

Idleton. — What's the use? When a woman agrees to 
meet a male friend at her milliner's, one may easily tell what 
will be the end of the affair. 

Sir Harry.— Well, I'm off to Crocky's If Wildgoose 
really means to get rid of himself, send for me, will you? I 
should like to see the last of him, poor fellow ! (Exeunt.) 

SCENE— IfT's Lamode s. 

Enter Belton and a Servant. 

Belton. — Tell Mrs Lamode I am here, and very impatient 
to see her. {Exit Servant.) Thanks to my usual good fortune, 
I got rid of Falkland pretty well. No fear of any impertinent 
intruders here. 

Re-enter Servant, 

Servant. — A note for you, sir — ^your servant said he was 
directed to forward it to you immediately. 

Belton. — Wildgoose's handwriting — a challenge, I suppose 
{reads). " Dear Belton " — a civil beginning for a " hostile 
message!" — (reads) —vim — um — -" before you receive this I 
shall be no more.— Thomas Wildgoose." — A regular dead 
man's epistle — the form as invariable as that of an incendiary 
letter — "put five pound in a sartin place." But here's a 
postscript — " If I had lived, I certainly would have given you 
satisfaction." Well, as he's dead— - 

Enter Wildgoose. 

Wildgoose.— Bless me, Belton, I didn't expect to meet 
you here. 

Belton.— Nor I you ! — but you had much better go home 
and be buried quietly 5 than walk about after your decease, to 
frighten people in this manner. 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 97 

. WiLDGOOSE. — Oh — you've received my letter? Why, the 
fact is, I did intend to commit the rash act; but I'm going to 
be married instead. 

Belton {more seriously), — Yes, I mean you shall be mar- 
ried. I have fixed upon a wife for you. 

WiLDGOOSE. — You're very good, but I'm engaged to one 
already. You would not have me take two at a time. I might 
as well shoot myself as that. 

Belton. — ^You may do that after marriage if you like ; 
but married you must be, and to a lady of my choosing ; the 
young lady with whom you supplied my place to-day. 

WiLDGOOSE. — Ha ! ha ! ha! — a mere ideal young lady, that ! 
She's like a poet's muse — all the town may make love to her 
without being jealous of each other. 

Belton. — No trifling, sir ! 

WiLDGOOSE. — Well, to convince you that I'm in earnest, 
the lady I described to you is the very person I am to meet 
here by appointment this evening. Look — ^here's her note 
(showing a letter to Belton). 

Belton {aside). — My sister's hand! {Aloud.) Look ye, 
sir, if you dare thus to trifle with me — that letter — 

WiLDGOOSE {aside). — Why, what's the matter with him 
now? He seems very savage. 

Enter Sir Frederick Falkland. 

Sir Frederick. — Mr Wildgoose, allow me to request your 
absence. 

WiLDGOOSE. — With a great deal of pleasure, Sir Frederick 
— no apologies, pray. Belton, I'll see you presently. I'm 
only going to speak a word to the writer of that letter. (Exit] 

Sir Frederick. — Mr Belton, we must have some conver- 
sation on a subject which nearly concerns my honour and 
happiness. 

Belton. — My dear Sir Frederick, I'm very proud of your 



98 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 

confidence ; but really the time and place are rather mal-d-pro- 
pos for the purpose. 

Sir Frederick. — The most fitting I could have chosen. 

Belton. — My dear Falkland, you must admit that there 
are occasions when a man must be allowed to prefer his own 
happiness to that of his best friend. 

Sir Frederick. — So I find, indeed! 

Belton". — You have forgotten that I am here by the 
appointment of a lady. 

Sir Frederick (half aside). — Would to heaven I could 
forget it! — the remembrance strikes a dagger to my soul. 

Enter Mrs Lamode. 

{To her.) Where is Lady Falkland ? 

Mrs Lamode. — Hush, sir ! hush ! — you'll discover the whole 
aifair. 

Sir Frederick. — I must see her instantly. 

Mrs Lamode. — You see her? Why, I understood she 
came to meet Mr Belton. But it's no business of mine. I 
presume the lady herself knows who she came to meet — so I'll 
fetch her. {Exit) 

Sir Frederick. — Well, sir — ^what have you to say to this ? 

Belton. — Say? Why, really I think the less that is said 
about it the better. 

Sir Frederick. — True, sir — words are superfluous — there- 
fore defend yourself {offering pistols^ ivhich he draws from his 
pochet). 

Belton. — First, Sir Frederick, you must be so good as to 
inform me what we are to fight about. 

Sir Frederick. — What ! have you not injured me in the 
most deadly manner? — deprived me of the affections of the 
woman I adored ? Life is insupportable to me, and — 

Belton. — And therefore you wish to get rid of it ? — a good 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 99 

reason enougli for your wishing to fight, but it don't apply to 
my case at all. 

Sir Frederick. — 'Sdeath, sir ! 

Belton. — Nay, Sir Frederick Falkland — restrain your 
anger. If you choose to throw away your wife's heart, you 
have no right to quarrel with me for picking it up. 

Sir Frederick. — How I feel the reproach! It almost 
unmans me. Oh Caroline ! Could she but have known that 
at the very moment when my seeming indifference piqued and 
offended her, my soul was wrung by the keenest pangs of 
jealousy — that under the unrufiled surface were concealed the 
fatal rocks on which my happiness is wrecked — but the thought 
is madness ! — {turning fiercely upon Belton) — Vile as you are, 
sir, let me not be compelled to brand you with the name of 
coward {again offering pistols). Once more, I say, defend 
yourself 

Belton [aside). — This is more than I bargained for. {To 
him.) Why, look~ye. Sir Frederick Falkland — it is not my way 
to stake my hfe on this kind of extemporaneous tilting with a 
madman. At a proper time and place I shall know how to 
answer you. At present — 

Sir Frederick. — Dastard ! 

Belton. — You deal in hard words! Why, you should 
thank me for being chary of my life, if only from a regard to 
Lady Falkland. 

Sir Frederick. — Insulting villain ! — dare you avow — 

Belton. — That I am here by Lady Falkland's appointment. 

Sir Frederick — Liar! I'll not believe it. Though my 
folly and your villany may have estranged her heart from me, 
an angel's tongue should not persuade me to admit a thought 
dishonourable to her virtue. 

Belton. — Ha ! ha ! ha ! — a most convenient husband ! — 
Dream on, sir, whilst I enjoy that " waking bHss " which 
awaits me. 



100 MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR, 

Sir Frederick. — Villain ! — liar ! — tliougli the act bring 
certain death upon me, thus — {as he points a pistol at Bel- 
ton and is about to fire^ Lady Falkland rushes out of an 
adjoining room and throws herself into his arms.) 

Lady Falkland.— Frederick 1 — my life ! — my husband ! 

Sir Frederick {starting hack). — Caroline ! — what can this 
mean ? — where do I find you ? 

Enter Louisa. 

Louisa. — In very good company, my dear brother — ^my 
presence — 

Sir Frederick. — Should remove every doubt — but this 
place — this man ? — what am I to tliink ? 

Louisa. — Why, that when Mr Belton came here to meet 
my sister, he little expected to find a family party assembled 
to greet him. 

Sir Frederick. — How have I been tortured ! and how 
deservedly ! But tell me, Carohne, was this your scheme ? 

Lady Falkland. — No, indeed, my dear Frederick — it is 
to this lady we owe the inestimable blessing of knowing 
that we are still beloved by each other. 

Enter Madame Beaumonde. 

Madame Beaumonde. — You see before you, Sir Frede- 
rick, "The forsaken Leonora," your correspondent of this even- 
ing. But I will not upbraid Mr Belton with his inconstancy ! 
I can easily forgive him, since he has enabled me to succeed 
in the most difficult and delicate of all tasks — that of reconcil- 
ing the causeless differences of a married couple. 

Louisa. — But though you forgive Mr Belton for his incon- 
stancy, I have another lady to introduce to him whom he has 
also forsaken — basely, cruelly forsaken. 



MARRIAGE IN MAY FAIR. 101 

Enter Emma Belton, led in hy Wildgoose. 

Belton. — My sister here ! 

Wildgoose. — I suppose you are not at leisure to fight at 
present, Belton — you seem to have too much business on your 
hands. 

Enter Sir Harry Headlong, Idleton, a7id Knowall. 

Sir Harry. — Well, Tom, which is it to be — Death or 
marriage? — a wife or a bullet? I couldn't help coming to 
take leave of you in either case. No more " life," then, you 
know ! No more fun, old fellow ! 

KJNOWALL. — Belton, you'll be laughed at most delightfully. 
You must expect no more quarter than a wasp finds in a 
bee-hive. 

Idleton. — For my part, I'll relate the story everywhere-^ 
that is, what I can remember of it ; and as everybody will 
know it before to-morrow night, if I should happen to make a 
few blunders, there'll be plenty of people to set me right. 

Belton. — This is too much ! I could have outfaced the 
silly taunts of the women, and laughed at the empty blustering 
of the husband ; but, like the sick lion, to be kicked at by 
asses ! — I can't stand that. Sir Frederick Falkland, you know 
where I am to be found. {Exit.) 

Sir Frederick. — Scoundrel I {Tlien to his wife^ How 
shall I atone for my folhes, Caroline ? — ^how speak my shame, 
yet my delight ? 

Madame Beaumonde. — There are occasions. Sir Frede- 
rick Falkland, for which words were not made. But let me say 
for both of you, what I hope by this time you have both dis- 
covered for yourselves — that, next to a causeless jealousy, the 
most mischievous feeling which can prevail between a married 
pair is that of a cold or careless indifference. 

Louisa. — And let me add, that an affectation of indiffer- 



102 ]MAPvEIAGE IN MAT FAIR. 

ence is even more dangerous than tlie reality ; for, depend upon 
it, when once we learn to feel ashamed of our good qualities, 
it will not be long before we grow vain of our bad ones. 

WiLDGOOSE. — I too must be allowed to confess my follies, 
as the first step towards abandoning them — which I mean to 
do immediately, if only for the singularity of the thing I 
TJiat, at all events, will make me talked of — and I don't care 
if 'tis for the last time ; — though I should like to be remarked 
for the singular happiness I mean to enjoy, and hope to confer, 
as tliis lady's husband. 

Sir Harry. — "Happiness" and "husband I" What a 
conjunction ! Something like the comfort of a strait waistcoat, 
or the hberty of a spunging house I 

Sir Frederick. — For my part, from the present moment 
I abjure for ever the ungenerous folly of pretending to love 
my wife less than I feel she deserves. 

Lady Falkland. — And I the childish affectation of seem- 
ing to estimate that love at less than the price of my whole 
heart. 

Madaivie Beaumonde (to the audience). — And our friends 
here may take a widow's word for it, that through all the 
varied scenes of the Comedy of Real Life, none but the fools 
will laugh when told that their boasted " single blessedness " 
would be but a faint foretaste of married bKss, if the lords 
of the creation would only learn to play the part of Husband 
at once wisely and kindly. 

( Curtain falls.) 



NOTE. 103 



NOTE. — (^See Preface, j)age v.) 

The practice of citing critical opinions in favour of literary works 
has been sanctioned, either avowedly or tacitly, by all the most 
distinguished writers of our day ; and it will scarcely be denied that 
the reasons for this practice, whatever they may be, speak more 
strongly in behalf of such citations when they proceed from sources 
at once avowed and authoritative, than when they are anonymous, 
and may be partial. 

Some years ago I was advised by a Hterary friend who had 
read this Comedy, and had a life-long experience in such matters, 
to obtain, if possible, the unbiassed opinion upon it of the late 
Frederick Eeynolds, who, I was assured, was looked upon in the 
theatrical world as, practically, the best living judge of a Comedy. 
Acting on this suggestion, the Comedy was ostensibly submitted 
(through the medium of a mutual friend) to Mr Alfred Bunn, at that 
time lessee of Drury Lane Theatre, — Mr Frederick Eeynolds being his 
*' Eeader." In pursuance of the same object — that, namely, of satisfy- 
ing myself whether or not the Comedy was worthy of public atten- 
tion^ — it was afterwards submitted to two highly popular writers, both 
of them among the most successful of their time in delineating in a 
Narrative form the Comedy of Actual Life. I allude to the accom- 
plished author of " Tremaine," " De Vere," &c. (Mr Plumer Ward), 
and the author of the famous "Eejected Addresses," " Brambletye 
House," &c. (Mr Horace Smith). Of the four gentlemen above- 
named, three were personally unknown to the writers of this Comedy, 
and had no possible means of even guessing as to its authorship ; 
and the fourth (Mr Plumer Ward), though a dear and revered 
friend of one of its writers, was too true to that title to abstain from 
telling his friend the truth, when seriously urged to do so — as he was 
in this instance. It is the favourable criticisms of these gentlemen, 
and the urgent and repeated remonstrances o£ the last-named of them, 
that have at length caused this Comedy partially to see the light. 



From a Letter of the late Richard Peake. 

" University street, Feb. 2, 1836. 
"My deae Patmoee, — I have seen Fred. Eeynolds's %oritien opinion 
on the Comedy. He is in raptures with the sparkling dialogue, which 



r 



104 NOTE. 

he declares to be equal to Congreve and Sheridan. . . . His opinion, 
on the whole, was highly favourable. Bunn is looking at the Comedy 
with a Manager's eye. . . . Yours truly, 

"R. B. Peake." 



From a Letter of Mr Alfred Bunn, 

" My deak Peake, — I return you the Comedy. It is admirably 
written, and possesses ingredients calculated to revive the days that 
are past." 

Mr Bunn's letter concludes with recommending " some more strik- 
ing effect in the Fourth Act, and some pruning of the dialogue — 
though it be too good to be spared.* Yours truly, 

"Aleeed Bunn." 



Mr Horace Smith sums up a careful estimate of the Comedy in 
the following words. The Italics are his own. 

" I have no difficulty whatever in declaring that, when measured hy 
the very best ivories of a similar class that I have either seen or read, it 
seems to me to be one of those genuine and legitimate Comedies that 
ought to command a great and undoubted success. Its merits are of a 
high order — sterling — indisputable. 

''October 6, 1838. H. S." 

Mr Plumer Ward's letter consists chiefly of hints and suggestions 
on minute details, almost all of which have since been adopted, with 
infinite benefit to the work. The following are the only passages that 
have a general application : 

" Chesterfield street, March 22, 1838. 

" Dear Patmore,— I have read the Play twice, and parts of it three 
times over. . . . The wit, repartee, equivoque, and asides remind 
me pointedly of Congreve, Vanburgh, and even Sheridan— to whom 
they are scarcely inferior. Wildgoose, Know all, Issachar, Head- 
LONa, and Idleton are all admirable, and the first and last I thmk 
very original. If well acted I am sure they would keep the house m a 
roar The fable, too, is fuU of interest, and I think by no means 
common." . . . [The letter concludes as follows :] " There ! I 
think I have tried your sincerity when you told me to be honest. 
And yet if you knew how very much I like the Play, you would 
not be angry. I want the interest to be as perfect as the humour, and 
then I think it will be a bijoux : and so no more— for I thmk I never 
wrote so long a letter in my life. Always yours, ^ 



* These recommendations have been partially carried out. 



Printed by Reyneli, and Weight, Iti Little Pulteney street. 



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